baektobaek | 2014: harbor (2/3) (for certainangles)

The sad reality is that life goes on. The waves that have rushed to shore will always return to the sea. Kelp keep finding their way to the beach, some closer to the port than the others. The snow keeps falling to the ground. Soon the ankle-deep snow will reach up to Baekhyun's calves and he'll have difficulty ploughing through the thick snow. He's lucky to have unearthed his boots a couple of weeks ago, but his toes feel like ice cubes in his socks already. It's not even the height of winter yet, but he already feels like a snow man, except he's bundled in three layers of clothing and his bonnet almost reaches his eyebrows.

He looks like a literal walking ball of sunshine today, dressed in yellow from head to toe. Luckily, his boots are black. At least there's a bit of break in the color else he'd be mistaken for yellow radish or french fries.

At least there's something in his closet apt for the season that isn't from Kyungsoo.

He laughs to himself. His breath comes out in wisps of white in the air. It's been close to a week since Kyungsoo and Seungsoo left for Seoul, a week since their first real fight. It still feels unreal, not seeing Kyungsoo around, or marking times of the day with Kyungsoo. They'd head to the port in the morning and help out with catching and selling fish, then in the afternoon they'd walk along the beach and meet up with Jongdae and Chanyeol. Engage in some chit chat before deciding if they should go to the farthest part of the beach, away from Sokcho-si's whispered noise and closer to the east sea. And in the evening, just after sunset, they'd go back to Kyungsoo's house, whip up something for the Do family because Kyungsoo's parents hardly have time for anything else but work and sleep.

Baekhyun would disappear for a while to bring home food for Baekbeom, then he'd head out again at around ten to watch the stars with Kyungsoo. "It looks different every night," Kyungsoo would say, even if he'd always trace the same constellations with his index finger. Baekhyun would seek him out every night, anyway, and listen to Kyungsoo's steady humming when they finally run out of things to talk about.

It's three in the afternoon now. It's almost the turn of the year. He hadn't gotten much done in the morning, save for trying to shovel the snow away from their front door. Then he'd ended up trying to make snow angels. His best attempt yielded something that looked like a bat but hey, at least it has wings now. Kyungsoo's better at this. He'd always be able to make a snow angel on the first try even if, half the time, he acted like a devil. An unassuming one.

A funny feeling surges up his nose, and soon Baekhyun is sneezing. Or at least he thinks he is because the next thing he knows, there's a lump of something cold hitting his cheek and stinging his muscles.

"What the–" He turns to his side to check who the offender is, then snorts when a familiar smiles greet him. Feeling courageous, he takes a fistful of snow and throws a snowball right back, launching an attack at Jongdae and Chanyeol. Chanyeol ducks and stutters in his steps, narrowly missing the snowball, but the second lump of cold hits him square on the nose. It hits him hard enough to render him immobile for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose until he feels blood rush back to it. Jongdae fights back, then, throwing one snowball after another, until Baekhyun tackles him to the ground. It's not the best form of attack, but Baekhyun's the only one on his team and he has to win even if he doesn't have the upperhand. So he tickles Jongdae, going straight for the underside of his tummy and–

Jongdae's laughter dies down. There's still a smile on Jongdae's lips, though, caught between a grin and a frown. It dangles from the corners of his mouth. Something gets stuck in Baekhyun's throat, and suddenly it feels as if he's got his hand in the wrong place, that this body beneath him isn't that familiar yet. That for a split second he'd slipped and had mistaken Jongdae for–

Baekhyun shifts a little and pinches Jongdae in his sides. Jongdae's voice peaks, and then he's laughing again.

Later that day, they make their way to the port, hoping to chance upon a fresh batch of chicken from Miyoung's stall. They arrive just a few minutes shy of the sunset, and Baekhyun looks over his shoulder to watch the sun go down in the horizon. Winter softens the violent rays of light, makes them more bearable on the eyes. Much like Kyungsoo reaching over to ease the furrow of Baekhyun's eyebrows while saying, "It's just the sunset. Stop looking at it like it has done something bad to you."

Baekhyun huffs and watches the oil turn the chicken skin from a pale flesh to brown. Kyungsoo gets excited at that, the silly kid. He says it's the prettiest color ever, the color of fried chicken–

"Alright, I'll say it. I miss Kyungsoo," Chanyeol announces. He throws his hands up in the air, then lets them fall to his sides. The result is a soft thud, then Jongdae inching away from Chanyeol at the impact of hands on jeans. Chanyeol's mumbling something, or maybe he's just making these unintelligible sounds that Baekhyun can't hear over the noise from the fryer. "It's just been a week but it feels like it's been a year or something!"

A lifetime, Baekhyun wants to say. It also feels like shit, or like being buried in the snow with the biting cold pricking your skin. He doesn't say a thing. Instead, he worries his bottom lip and keeps his gaze fixed on the tiny bubbles in the fryer.

"Man, I wish he could've… said something, y'know?" Chanyeol continues. He moves closer to the fryer now, and Miyoung shakes her head at him in response. "Hey Baek, did he ever–"

"Never," Baekhyun replies. He doesn't have to hear the rest of the sentence to know what Chanyeol means to ask. Everyone's been asking him the same thing, just not out in the open. Baekbeom had looked at him the morning of Kyungsoo's departure like he was sure Baekhyun knew all the kinks of Kyungsoo and Seungsoo's plan. He didn't. The best friend title is probably just for show. In the end, he's just one of 'those friends' of Kyungsoo's.

Jongdae rests a hand on his shoulder. "Seriously? Doesn't he tell you everything? Or try to, at least?"

Baekhyun shrugs. Jongdae lets his hand fall to his side. That part isn't intentional. "I dunno, man. Half the time, the waves were fucking up our sound system. And my hearing's shit, you know that."

Jongdae purses his lips. "Are you sure he didn't try to tell you? Or at least mention a thing?"

He isn't. He isn't quite sure of anything these days. He thought he wanted to get into urban landscaping at first, to build a better Sokcho-si for everyone, but he keeps going back to music. There's also broadcasting, because apparently he should put his ability to modulate his voice and imitate voices to good use and earn out of it, but all he wants right now is to perform on stage with three other people by his side. And as certain as the waves rush to shore after they run back into the sea's welcoming arms, he goes back to one question and one, alone: will it take him farther from Sokcho-si? Will it force him to lift his anchor and drag it across the beach until he finds a new harbor? Does it really have to be Seoul? A 'yes' to all three means that his good ideas are actually bad ones. A 'no' means he'll be happy with the arrangement, but then if he truly wants something then he should fight for it no matter what, right?

But it's Seoul, a voice at the back of his mind says. And he's seen what Seoul can do to people, has done to his parents. He hardly even knows how they are, if they're doing fine, if the really are alive and not just a figment of Baekbeom's imagination.

You said you'll wait. Do I have your word on that, a voice in his mind says. Something in his chest bursts, pops, almost like a small explosion inside him. He can feel the debris plummeting to his stomach, making his insides turn. So he confesses, "Maybe he did," because he isn't sure yet. For all he knows, Kyungsoo could've been talking about the winter wear he was knitting for all three of them.

Jongdae lets out a loud exhale. "Hey, look at me."

Baekhyun does as he's told. He winces when he sees the corners of Jongdae's lips tugged down in a frown. "What?"

"You can't–" Jongdae gulps hard. "You can't keep convincing yourself that you don't care."

Baekhyun sucks in his bottom lip. Balls his fists even if he can't feel his fingers anymore. Holds his breath even if his chest feels so full, he might explode anytime. He does everything to keep himself from blurting out whatever he needs to say or whatever his throat will permit. It's been like this since Kyungsoo left, his senses going haywire like they're rebelling against their owner. Like Kyungsoo walked away and took a part of Baekhyun with him the moment he got on the bus to Seoul.

The waves will always rush back to shore– But it's winter, and there's the risk of the sea water freezing over. It will be another two, three months until the ice melts, another month until Baekhyun thaws out and gets his act together again. Kyungsoo would probably be laughing at him silly if he saw him like this. 'Don't do this to yourself,' Kyungsoo would say, and then wait for him to come around. Freeze in the cold with him until the beginnings of spring sweep Baekhyun's insecurities under the rug and breathe color into him again.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "I care," he admits. "Maybe too much. But what's done is done. He's gone and he won't be back until after a month and life goes on." He scoffs. "He might not even return. You know what the city does to people."

"No," Jongdae retorts. "But I do know what denial does to people."

"Denial?" Baekhyun shakes his head. His mouth feels weird, like it doesn't belong to him, like the scowl doesn't belong there. "Can you hear yourself? Are you out of your mind? C'mon, man, you know what happened! Umma left us for her guy in Seoul when appa saw them in our house. Appa went looking for her in Seoul and promised to come back but–" He swallows hard, but his throat is dry. It's like swallowing nails and screws, the sharp edges leaving scars on his throat. "He hasn't returned in years, Dae. Years–"

"But he keeps in touch with Baekbeom-hyung, right?" Jongdae says. "I heard from umma and appa, when they had to go to Seoul one time and saw uncle there, that he kept talking about you and Baekbeom-hyung, how much he wanted to see you two again. But he couldn't go home yet." Jongdae sniffles. "Because he had to save up for your college tuition so that you could… pursue anything you wanted."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. Jongdae mentioned that one time, but his mind was too clouded with Sooneung stuff that time that he probably wasn't able to process everything. But there's a distant memory of that at the back of his mind, along with a few more of his father – that time when he held his children in his arms before boarding the bus to Seoul, that time when he sent them presents for Seollal and sent them a picture of himself, as well, holding a thumbs up against the Han.

Baekhyun still remembers the first Chuseok they didn't spend together, when his father called all the way from Seoul to tell them that he won't be able to return because fares are expensive and he's doing freelance work to earn more. "I'll send you the money tomorrow, before shops close," his father had said then. He was on speaker phone; Baekhyun could hear everything that he was saying, could hear his choked sobs. "Tell Baekhyunnie that appa will work hard so that he'll enjoy university, alright? Can you promise me that, Baekbeom?"

"He's here," Baekbeom had replied. Baekhyun shook his head and tried to hide, but Baekbeom picked him up by the back of his shirt and made him sit still beside him. "He's just being weird and won't talk but he's listening, appa. He can hear you."

Baekhyun closes his eyes. He takes a sharp breath, the cool air tracing crazy lines in his nostrils. He shivers. "I'm sorry, I'm just–" He opens his eyes again, squinting when the brightness of the expanse of snow around them blinds him. It doesn't hurt as much as the dull ache in his chest, but there's still a hint of pain here, a pang there. "Everybody's moving onto new things. Better things? I dunno." He scratches the back of his head. "You two want to study in Seoul. Kyungsoo's… gone. Baekbeom-hyung's taking a job in Seoul–"

"Oh?" Chanyeol takes a step closer to them, hands still deep in his jacket's pockets. "Why don't you move to Seoul with hyung, then?"

There really is no reason not to. All Baekhyun knows is that he probably won't like the busy city life in Seoul, the noise, the blinding lights. He prefers the roaring of the sea and the soothing humming of the waves when the sea is almost dangerously still. He prefers it here, in Sokcho-si, where time doesn't fly by as fast as it does in bigger cities, where he can tell the time of the day just by checking the way sunlight hits Seoraksan. And by the way Kyungsoo squints when sunlight hits him too hard. He likes this life already; why would he trade it for something completely different? So he chokes it up to bad experience, to a sad past that he can't get over yet.

"The city freaks me out," he mumbles after a while.

Chanyeol snorts. "You haven't even been there yet."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and looks the other way, giving into the allure of the thick white snow beside him. He squints, trying to shield his eyes from the blinding light, but too late. Soon, he's falling to the sand, plummeting to the snow, face first. His skin feels so cold numb against the expanse of snow, his chest warm when he hears Chanyeol and Jongdae's laughter over his shoulder. It tickles his insides. And he waits for one last voice, the low giggle, the faint laughter.

Baekhyun burries his face in the snow to drown out the other noise. The voice never comes.

≋ ≋ ≋

Baekhyun wipes the sweat off his forehead and grimaces at the accumulated grime on his right shirtsleeve. Spring break is when he does most of his cleaning, but here's a good ten inches of snow just outside their door and he has very little courage to brave the cold weather. He has no choice but to stay inside. That, and he's been wearing the winter wear Kyungsoo knit for him almost everyday. It's the warmest, comfiest he has. That's his only 'excuse.' Baekbeom's already developed a habit of teasing him over dinner everyday, though, even saying that, "Pretty soon, you'll be made of yarn and you'll be the fluffiest brother ever. Which is a good thing, you know, because you're made of nothing but cold glass–" The first time Baekbeom said that, Baekhyun swore never to cook gamja ongsimi for him ever again. The second time, he swore to add too much gochujang to the kimchi jjigae. The third... he just shrugged it off and threw one hot marble potato at Baekbeom, straight to the bridge of his nose.

Fast forward to last night and he cooked for his brother again, and even gave him second helpings. He slipped off the jacket and lay it beside him in bed, instead.

He shakes his hands now, trying to restore the feeling in his fingers. Even with the thick walls of the house closing in on him, winter is still a formidable foe. The soup earlier had done little to make him feel warm, but he feels a bit more alive now. Keeping himself busy with cleaning out his room, disposing old trash, is strangely therapeutic.

He picks up the cutter from the floor, then, and begins to open the box. It's the least dusty among all those he's brought down to his room, but it's also the heaviest. He could've sworn his arms almost gave out earlier while carrying the box. He clicks one side of the flap open after scoring through the packing tape, coughing when he almost inhales the dust. There's the sharp scent of dirt and salt and the sea escaping from the narrow opening of the box. It makes him shiver.

He folds the other flap to the side, then moves to the third flap until the top of the box is fully open and the contents are exposed. He laughs a little, mostly to himself, when he sees the things inside.

Grow up, Baek, he tells himself. Yet he picks up an old stuffed toy inside the box and flicks dust off the head of the toy.

There are all sorts of things in the box – books from middle school, some receipts from those binge ice cream eating exploits. Chanyeol's spare strings, and a pair of drum sticks. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, then, and retrieves that from the pile. There are characters engraved somewhere near the bottom of one stick. Or are they initials? It's hard to tell with the dim lighting in his room. He brings the stick close to his eyes, then, and squints until he's able to make out what's carved on the surface. It looks a lot like a BC, but it can be anything. Maybe even BBQ. Kyungsoo loves barbecue. He tries blowing at the characters until the dust comes off, and that's when it becomes clearer – in English, all in capital letters, 'FROM BAEK 01.12.07'.

He gulps hard. There's a doodle there, too, one Baekhyun remembers drawing on the stick as a 'dedication' before handing it over to Kyungsoo. "So are these my lucky sticks?" he remembers Kyungsoo asking, and he'd just shrugged in response. He might have whimpered when Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow at him as if saying, 'you can't escape from this, Byun, you have to answer my question.' The answer was, is obvious, but trust Kyungsoo to ask through a heavy gaze just in case.

Baekhyun laughs. He traces a line up the stick and snorts when he feels the sticky tape scratch the pad of his thumb. It's obvious why these sticks are with him, too – he broke them before, during one particularly testing band practice, and was never able to repair it. He promised Kyungsoo he would, but Kyungsoo'd said, 'nah, it's fine, keep it. I have more than enough luck to last me a lifetime.' Kyungsoo looked so sure then, so assured that he didn't need any of the luck that Baekhyun was offering him through a pair of drum sticks.

Baekhyun lays it atop his bed this time, careful not to cause more damage. If these can bring him seven of more years of good luck, then why the hell not?

He turns back to the box and rummages through the contents one by one.

He takes a deep breath. This will be a long day.

(When darkness hits and winter creeps up on him even more, he stares at the sticky note Kyungsoo had left him before going to Seoul. He almost lost it when he was cleaning up and dumping the last few pieces of trash in the plastic bag by his door, but the pink sheet is too bright and attention-grabbing for him to miss. It wouldn't have mattered, though – he knows Kyungsoo's mobile number by heart, doesn't even need to scroll through his contacts to give Kyungsoo a ring. Kyungsoo is his speed dial 1. But somehow his fingers always freeze as soon as he unlocks his phone with the intent of calling Kyungsoo

Then his throat clenches, runs dry. And his heart leaps out of his chest. C'mon, Baekhyun, this shouldn't be hard, he tells himself. It shouldn't be so hard to call up his best friend in the dead of the night and just breathe into the receiver when Kyungsoo picks up. He's done it a hundred, a thousand times before, at obscene times of the day, even, because Sooneung fucks up with your body clock and the rest of your body when it decides to team up with stress. He knows exactly the effect Kyungsoo's voice has on him at twelve midnight, at one in the morning, then at three. He knows what Kyungsoo's voice, still thick with sleep and lethargy, does to him the moment he wakes up and rouses from his slumber.

He tries a second time, fishing for his phone from under his pillow. He makes it to step two – pulling up Kyungsoo's contact card – but never makes it to the third. So instead, he closes his eyes and places his phone on his chest. He digs through his memories for Kyungsoo's voice, his weird laughter, his steady humming that sounds a lot like breathing.

It's hard. It's harder than he's ever imagined.)

≋ ≋ ≋

The weekend before New Year means one last chance at trying to right his wrongs for the year. He'd say it's akin to a tradition, creating a list of what he's accomplished this year, his goals for the next, and things he shouldn't do in the succeeding years. The past three sets of lists, starting from when he'd just graduated from middle school and moved on to high school, all had the same first item on the 'won't do's' list – study hard for Sooneung and get good grades. Stay focused. Maybe even die studying, so long as he can recite an entire page of his textbook in his funeral.

He unfolds one of the lists he made last year, then scores a line along the second item. 'Party hard', it says. He snorts. The closest to partying he's done this year was when they had a couple of drinks after the open concert. And then a few more gigs after that, except they had to sneak in soju into the makeshift backstage instead of the drink being offered to them. The space was hella cramped but somehow that made drinking, made trying not to get caught passing around a bottle of soju (or two) even when they're still underage, a bit more enjoyable.

"Party hard, cry even harder!" Chanyeol half-screamed, half-whispered then. Jongdae only laughed in response, face buried in the crook of Chanyeol's sweaty neck. Baekhyun snatched the bottle and split the last few gulps with Kyungsoo, then, while managing to keep Kyungsoo on his feet after the third bottle.

"Soju tastes like shit," Kyungsoo said.

"Oh yeah?" Baekhyun replied, grinning. He held the bottle farther away from Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo tiptoed, shirt hiking up and exposing a stripe of flesh. It wasn't as if Baekhyun had never seen Kyungsoo without a shirt before, but something about the way his skin glowed a bright shade of red made Kyungsoo look different, feel different when Baekhyun snaked hand beneath his threadbare shirt. "Pretty sure we're drinking the same thing and my soju tastes–"

"Good?"

Baekhyun remembers swallowing hard, throat burning with all the alcohol he'd chugged down that night. "Very."

Kyungsoo sucked in his bottom lip and inched closer until their noses touched. "Oh? Then, let me–"

Then Chanyeol lost control of his limbs and fell on his ass. Then Jongdae laughed, snorting through nose. Then Kyungsoo's body gave this weird sort of tremble, like he'd been shaken out of a trance or he was shrugging off whatever he wanted out of his system. Then Baekhyun met Jongdae's gaze, careful, assessing, steady, like Jongdae was expecting something to happen and was waiting, waiting, waiting still.

Then Baekhyun caught his fingers balled into a fist in Kyungsoo's shirt, and the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers leaving spots, traces of himself on Baekhyun's collarbones. A deep breath, and then Kyungsoo was pulling away, shoulders hunched, eyes heavy and barricaded. Baekhyun took a long swig of the soju and thought, yeah, it tasted like shit.

"Enough with the drama!" comes Baekbeom's voice now, loud and thundering from the kitchen. He has a bottle of soju tucked under one arm and two shot glasses rubbing against each other in his other hand. An hour 'til the turn of the year and they still haven't showered, but are raring to drink. Baekbeom's rationale is that they'll end up sweating while drinking, anyway, so why freshen up now? 'Drink now, shower later,' that's his motto. In hindsight, it's a bit gross considering Baekhyun's been doing a lot of cooking (mostly stews, because they can never have too much soup when it's cold as fuck outside). It's just the two of them tonight, though, and Lord knows they've experienced worse than having to bear with each other's stink and sweat.

"Where are the other turtles?" Baekbeom asks. He kicks Baekhyun in the calf, making room for himself so he can set the glasses down on the table.

Baekhyun stuffs the lists in his pants pocket, then snorts and slaps Baekbeom in the ass. "In their own shells, licking their own hands."

"Is that some sort of euphemism for pre-New Year fapping? Or setting off fireworks at the turn of the year–"

"You're ruining it, hyung!" Baekhyun groans. Baekbeom snickers then cackles, loud and unrepentant. "You're going to watch the fireworks alone and I'll be in my room, away from you–"

Baekhyun stops, then promptly regrets what he's just said when Baekbeom wiggles his eyebrows at him. He grabs the pillow closest to him and throws it at Baekbeom, hitting his brother in the face.

Neither of the two happens, though, as they both alternate between looking outside the window to marvel at the fireworks and watching the televised celebration in Gangam. "Looks pretty exciting," Baekbeom says as the cameraman pans to a group of friends dancing in place while waving bottles of whatever alcohol around. Then the camera shifts focus to someone, with a couple in the background ready to kiss. A heartbeat, and then it's focused back on the field reporter who's all smiles as the crowd cheers loudly behind her. It does look exciting with all the dancing going on somewhere in the park and the music videos of famous artists playing in Gangnam's huge LCDs, but–

"Stop zoning out," Baekbeom says. Baekhyun's body gives a tiny jerk and then he's back, blinking whatever trance he was in earlier away. "Kyungsoo warned me about that. Said you've been... spacier than the usual since Sooneung ended."

Baekhyun snorts. "The exam changed me," he replies, "In a lot of ways." He has all this unspent energy inside him that gutting fish and cleaning his room can't deplete so easily. He can't sleep at night sometimes, because there's always this nagging feeling that he's missing something. A lesson, or a text. Kyungsoo sleeps at the most ungodly of hours, after all. "I guess I'll just have to get back into the swing of things," he says after a while, after a beat too long. Baekbeom's watching him with slightly furrowed eyebrows and a weird quirk of the lip. "Relax, hyung. I'll be okay."

Baekbeom holds his gaze a little longer before turning away to reach for the bag of chips. Baekhyun does his part, then, pouring them each a shot. Baekbeom's glass is a bit more filled than his. "Have you called him yet?"

"Nope."

"Texted him?"

He laughs a little. "Nope. Not either."

Baekbeom takes a shot, then looks at him long enough for commercials on TV to take over the coverage. "Kids these days."

He can try to interpret what his brother has just said, but there's enough alcohol in his brain to make dissecting statements a bit of a chore so he lets it go. He unfolds the list he made last year, then, ignoring the curious glance that Baekbeom gives him when he almost rips the paper into two. He'd crossed off items he's already accomplished, and only one remains untouched – 'try something new' "Something ridiculous," Jongdae had added before, when he peeked over Baekhyun's shoulder to see what he'd written. "You have to do something you wouldn't think of doing unless it was your last day alive. Like, y'know–"

"Skinny dipping in winter?" Baekhyun cackled. "With you?"

Jongdae snorted, then cocked his head to the side. "Not me," he whispered, and shifted his gaze to Kyungsoo.

So Baekhyun heads straight to his room, diving into his bed to get his phone from under his pillow. There's still a bit of battery left even if he hasn't charged it from when it hit 50% this afternoon. He casts a glance at the wall clock – ten minutes until the new year, fifteen minutes left to fulfill all the things he's listed in this year's to-do list. He runs his fingers along the creases on the paper, straightening it out on his lap, then presses '1' on the keypad on the screen.

Why the hell not, a part of him says, but the other half is still caught in the part where he actually keys in Kyungsoo's number, digit per digit. Too late, though – his phone is pressed to his cheek now, and he takes a deep breath as he waits, waits, waits for the phone to start ringing.

"C'mon," he mutters. "I'm doing my part; now do yours–"

The ringing comes to an abrupt halt. There's light rustling on the other end of the line, then light humming. "He…llo?" comes a voice too familiar, punctuated by a loud gulp. A hitch of the breath, and then, "Baekhyun?"

Baekhyun's throat tightens. A traitorous cold wraps around his neck, claws at the walls of his throat and scores a line along his tongue. There's a sting right there, but it feels as if his tongue has frozen. He tries to make a sound, but all that comes out is a whimper. He isn't sure if it's loud enough to reach the other end of the line. He doesn't even know why his chest feels so heavy when Kyungsoo laughs a little into the receiver, then says, for a second time, "Hello, Baekhyun." There are no pauses this time, no lulls, but then that's to be expected – he's talking to Kyungsoo. If there's anyone who knows him better than he does, it's this person on the other end of the line. So it should be easy to say something in return, expect his senses to act on the situation in a blink of an eye like reflex, but it never comes. His entire body feels as if it's caught in a whirlpool. Light in the head, heavy in the chest. Giving in and resisting in equal parts.

Kyungsoo clears his throat on the other end of the line. "This… isn't a prank call, is it? Because if it is–"

"Soo," Baekhyun blurts out, voice so soft he could have been whispering. His lips are trembling and his fingers are shaking and shit, he can't drop his phone, not when Baekbeom kept it from him the whole time he was studying for Sooneung. There are too many memories in here, too, in the gallery where thousands of pictures of them, sober or just a bit too tipsy, are kept. A selca of him and Kyungsoo in the beach when Kyungsoo had been a bit too drunk and relenting. "Hey. Hi. I–" he tries again, but something in him blooms, a feeling so explosive that even taking just one breath feels lethal. Like his chest can burst anytime, or at the very next second that Kyungsoo says something.

"You… have finally come around," Kyungsoo whispers. His voice lilts at the end. "Haven't you?"

"Yeah. That. I–" Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight. His eyes feel hot and heavy. He's never been more grateful that Kyungsoo's only on the phone and not right in front of him. "Yeah, I was stupid," he continues. He takes a deep breath, shaky, hitching just before he feels his chest get full. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"Oh," is the only thing Kyungsoo says in reply. Silence is thick, deafening, and if it weren't for the fireworks outside, if it were not for the voices of people cheering on the beach, just beyond Baekhyun's window, it would've been sickening already. He hates silence, the type that encroaches on his private space and forces him to listen to the many voice in his mind. So bless the beach and Sokcho-si's own brand of 'city noise'. Bless the fireworks outside. Bless–

Baekhyun feels a shiver crawl down his spine then head back up, pricking his ears. "Say something," he whispers into the receiver when Kyungsoo remains silent. "Soo, please–"

"Happy New Year," Kyungsoo replies. He chuckles. "In ten minutes, at least, but– Yeah." A deep, shaky breath. Kyungsoo makes this weird sort of noise when the air gets caught somewhere between his nostrils and his throat. It tickles Baekhyun's insides. "Happy New Year."

Baekhyun snatches a glance at his wall clock, then looks outside the window. He catches sight of puffs of light falling to the sea, and then another stream of light hitting the sky. That's another twenty, thirty seconds taken away from this year, thirty seconds closer to the next. "Your clock's delayed. Get that thing fixed if you're not throwing it away, geez–"

"I don't throw things away easily," Kyungsoo answers. Laughs a little, albeit throaty and dry. He sniffles. "Besides, you were the one who gave it to me. Five minutes–"

"Four point…" Baekhyun bites the inside of his cheek. "Four point thirty eight!"

"You're totally making that shit up."

"I am not!"

Baekbeom comes knocking on the door after a while, then pulls Baekhyun out of his room and the house to see the fireworks better. He takes his phone with him, keeps Kyungsoo on the line until the people around him start cheering, 'Happy New Year!' Above him, the lights look a bit too big, intimidating, as if they're out to blind him. So he closes his eyes. He focuses on the sound of the waves, instead, the light slapping of skin against skin as hugs are exchanged. Three familiar voices snapping him out of his trance, then two pairs of familiar arms wrapping around him. Strangling him.

"Happy New Year," Baekhyun whispers into the receiver. Slowly, he opens his eyes. The first thing that greets him is the image of Baekbeom a few feet away, holding two thumbs up.

Chanyeol snatches the phone away and holds it between himself and Jongdae so they can give Kyungsoo a greeting. Baekhyun doesn't miss the last sliver of laughter from Kyungsoo, though, just for him. He clutches at his shirt as his body gives a tiny jerk enough to make the alcohol in his brain slosh.

'And to you, too,' comes Kyungsoo's voice, echoing in this mind. Baekhyun grips his shirt tighter in an effort to still – the racing in the chest, the voices in his mind. The wild grin tugging so hard at the corners of his lips.

Chanyeol puts Kyungsoo on speaker phone. Kyungsoo's wicked laughter booms in the tiny space where they're huddled, and Jongdae cackles so hard when Kyungsoo accidentally greets them a 'happy birthday' instead of a 'happy new year'.

There goes my phone credits, Baekhyun thinks.

There goes my heart.

≋ ≋ ≋

"Hey."

Baekhyun blinks a few times, trying to refocus his vision. He's stopped drinking hours ago, but everybody knows that soju hits progressively stronger after the first bottle. And they had three. Granted, Baekbeom drank almost a bottle's worth before disappearing to hang out with Jongdeok and Yura, but sometimes the sound of the waves crawling to shore makes alcohol do the same thing to him, only in his head. Chanyeol and Jongdae aren't helping, either, still talking near him albeit in hushed voices now. Or maybe he's just a fucking lightweight. He can't be assed to figure things out right now, though – his limbs feel so sore and his tongue is numb and his lips sting from drinking too much. There's a dull ache in his jaw and under his ribs from laughing too much. His cheeks feel like they're frozen in space, tugged up from all the smiling he's done.

"Well, someone's happy," comes Jongdae's voice, lilting towards the end. Baekhyun feels Jongdae bump their hips together, making space for himself. Chanyeol does the same on the other side. It feels like being sandwiched by hot buns, skin too warm from all the alcohol in their bodies. "I guess I won the bet, huh?"

Chanyeol groans. Baekhyun pokes one eye open, then, and looks from side to side. It makes the pulse in his temples throb all the more so he closes his eyes again, jabs both Chanyeol and Jongdae in their sides instead. "There wasn't any money involved!" Chanyeol reasons out, voice cracking when it peaks.

Baekhyun snorts. "Like that makes things better."

"It does! It means we're not trying to make money out of your misery!" Chanyeol sniffles, shivers. The sand beneath him shifts when he turns to lie on his side, then reaches over to do whatever to Jongdae. Baekhyun hasn't opened his eyes yet; there's no way of telling whether he should even be witnessing this or not. He catches the light chattering of Chanyeol's teeth, though, the alcohol in his breath. The loud thumping in his chest whenever Jongdae's voice goes sharp when he laughs. Stimulus, then response – Jongdae's ugly cackle and one loud thump in Chanyeol's chest.

"Fine. I'll be your slave for a week. Whatever," Chanyeol grumbles, relenting. He slinks away, but Baekhyun can still feel his warmth close by. He hears the lilt somewhere between those words, too, the shift in the tone that gives Chanyeol away. Jongdae chuckles and does a little victory dance where he is, but he only succeeds in getting sand on his arm and Baekhyun's own. "But hey, I'm glad you guys are talking again. Dunno know what happened but you looked like a zombie during The Cold War."

"You mean the start of winter," Baekhyun mumbles. He kicks Chanyeol in the calf. "C'mon, it wasn't that bad."

"You're right – it was awful." Chanyeol pushes himself further away from the two when Baekhyun sits up, hands balled into fists. "Dude, you should've seen the look on your face. I haven't seen that since... the day Joonmyun-hyung left for Seoul. Ah, no – the day Yixing-hyung said goodbye to you and gave you his lucky hook."

Ah, those days – the memory is too fresh in Baekhyun's mind. Joonmyun's departure was the talk of the town for weeks. He was Sokcho-si's lucky ticket, the first kid in city in the recent past to try his luck in Seoul. The one before him was a man by the name of Kim Junsu, who'd been successful and was already touring Asia that time. Joonmyun wanted something different, though – he wanted to be a weather forecaster. Quite the weird choice in career, but he liked the feeling of being able to control things a bit, or at least warn people of possible weather mishaps whenever he can. 'Makes me feel like a superhero,' Baekhyun remembers Joonmyun saying just before Joonmyun bent his knees to pick up his bags. 'And I think that's important, to feel empowered by whatever career you want to pursue. It will be hard, but if it makes me happy then the burden won't be as heavy.'

Yixing's departure had been less dramatic; his return, the complete opposite. Baekhyun still keeps that lucky hook with him, tied to a chain like a pendant. 'If you ever feel like you're slowly losing way, if you feel like everyone's trying to make you do something you don't want,' Yixing had said then, 'just look at this. Then you'll remember that whatever you feel the strongest for is the one you should pursue. X mark, x mark!'

Baekhyun laughs to himself. His problem isn't the people around him who are trying to influence him. It's the voices in his head, all his but each saying a different thing, that mess with his brain.

"I saw Joonmyun-hyung in the sports TV, by the way," Jongdae mentions. Baekhyun's body gives a tiny jerk, and then he's back here. He runs his thumb along the pads of his fingers, feeling for the hook. "He seemed pretty happy."

Like a superhero, Baekhyun wants to say. Joonmyun might not have fulfilled the whole broadcasting dream down to the very last detail, but at least he nailed the 'reporter' bit. Now, he's merrily rubbing elbows with big names in the golf scene, shaking hands with famous boxers like Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather. Getting really chummy with Kei Nishikori on the tennis side of things. Hitting balls with him and more (unconfirmed). It's not as perfect as it should be, but Joonmyun's happy with it.

It's just like how Sokcho-si is now – not quite the same as the old city that it was before the great storm, but still as beautiful. Maybe even more. Not all things are supposed to be perfect; you just have to make it perfect for yourself.

"Too happy. He was struggling to keep it together beside– Who's that guy again?" Baekhyun rubs the tip of his nose and sneezes. The cold wind is blowing again, harder than the usual. It tousles Chanyeol's already messy hair. "F1 guy. Racer dude."

"Jenson Button," Chanyeol offers. He's frowning. Baekhyun never got the appeal of sports, but the quiet confidence of sportsmen always moved him. "I guess it wasn't such a bad thing that he didn't quite make it big on field, yeah? I mean, if I ended up getting bitten by some radioactive spider–"

"We get it," Jongdae interrupts. "Ending up a hero instead of being the smartest scientist in the world isn't so bad." He shoos Chanyeol away, then, at the same time that Yura calls his brother to ask if he ate all the cupcakes. With a snicker, he turns to Baekhyun and says, "So maybe we got carried away and didn't realize we'd finished the whole box already?"

Baekhyun widens his eyes, and a sliver of laughter escapes his chapped lips. "Noona's gonna kill you!"

Jongdae's laughter dies down after a while, when the cool wind blows again. It hits them square on the face this time, and Baekhyun keeps his eyes closed as he feels some sand stick to his cheeks. He keeps his lips pressed together, too, and only breathes out when the wind stops beating down on them. He can hear light chatter a few feet away, familiar voices growing steadily louder with each passing second. Maybe Chanyeol's already been proven to not be guilty and Yura and the others are out to hunt Jongdae down. Maybe–

"He's right, you know," Jongdae whispers. Baekhyun opens one eye and fixes Jongdae in place with his gaze. "You looked so miserable those days when you and Kyungsoo–"

"Were estranged."

"Sounded as if you had a fight or something," Jongdae finishes. He chuckles. "Like a lover's quarrel."

Something gets caught in Baekhyun's throat, claws at its walls. He can taste blood in his mouth. And something bitter, but the he's lost the feeling in his tongue hours ago. "Nope. Not lovers," he says in reply.

"Yet," Jongdae retorts.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. "Oh, don't let him hear you say that. He'll kill you–" He rubs the tip of his nose. "Well, he'll kill me first then kill you–"

"You two do that... nose thing a lot." Jongdae taps his nose, then pushes at the tip just a little. "Is that a couple thing or what?"

"Stop pushing the couple thing if you still want to live!"

The truth is, it's not the first time he's heard that from anyone. It was Miyoung who first brought it up, mentioning that he and Kyungsoo looked like a bickering couple when Baekhyun was trying to convince Kyungsoo to make everything soy garlic instead of spicy. "I can't tell who's totally whipped, though," Miyoung even said then, tapping her bottom lip a little as she gave them a smile. "Maybe you reverse roles?" Then Yixing added to that, saying that Miyoung hasn't seen the best yet, 'you should see them when they're building sand castles and then rolling on the sand and–'

And in all instances, Baekhyun had said the same thing: they're not lovers. They're just friends, friends who may be a bit too fond of each other, if Kyungsoo's high tolerance for Baekhyun's bad ideas is any indicator of that. They're friends who just really get each other, know each other inside and out. He knows that if there's anything that isn't black in Kyungsoo's wardrobe, it's his underwear. He knows that Kyungsoo has a really bad habit of being too lazy to shower sometimes. He knows Kyungsoo. He knows the shape of Kyungsoo's body, the dip of his back, the slope of his neck, and every single time he'd risked a glance too long he felt a traitorous cold crawl up his neck and suffocate him. Because friends aren't supposed to look at each other's bodies, slick with soap and water, in the shower and think how it would feel to run their friends along the subtle dips and curves of their limbs, thighs, calves.

Friends are supposed to lie beside each other in bed, some bad porno from Jongdae's stash playing on Kyungsoo's old laptop, and jerk off while keeping their eyes on the screen. Baekhyun wasn't supposed to glance at Kyungsoo that time when some hot girl was fingering herself on screen and Kyungsoo threw his head back but kept his hand in his pants, fist moving in erratic jerks. He wasn't supposed to feel his dick twitch as he traced the length of Kyungsoo's neck, traced the path a lone bead of sweat took before resting on Kyungsoo's collarbone, with his gaze and nothing else. Then Kyungsoo let out a low groan, lips parting as he pumped himself to completion, and Baekhyun felt his stomach coil like that was what did it for him, the image of Kyungsoo getting wrecked beside him, hollow moans escaping his plump lips. Kyungsoo curling up beside him soon after, head on his lap as he looked up at Baekhyun to say, "You are so hard to please."

Baekhyun remembers shrugging then, the thick lump in his throat scratching the walls even more. "Not really," he replied, then looked outside the window.

He remembers feeling the vibrations of Kyungsoo's laughter on his skin as Kyungsoo said, "Really, now," but never asked why.

"You're stupid," Jongdae whispers. He pokes at the sand and draws an x mark from there, one side reaching the side of Baekhyun's foot. "You two are slow and stupid."

Baekhyun swats Jongdae's hand away, then wraps his fingers on Jongdae's wrist. Jongdae's arm jerks, and then Jongdae's looking up to meet him in the eye. There are a number of things that Baekhyun can ask right now – why am I stupid, why are we stupid, why won't you just let it go – but Jongdae's looking at him with a small smile on his lips as if saying, 'come on, Baekhyun, it won't take too much to figure this out. You're not really stupid, are you? Don't let me down, now, Byun–' So he squints, holds Jongdae's gaze until he feels the throbbing in temples reach his eyebrows, then his eyelids.

He blinks and pulls away, mumbling, "Am not. He is." Jongdae laughs a little. "Don't tell him I– I swear to God, Jongdae, I will maim you someday."

"Nah. You won't," Jongdae says. He sticks out his tongue, then adds, "Besides, you have other things to do."

"Someone's looking for a Mr. Byun Baekhyun?" comes Chanyeol's voice from a few spaces away.

Baekhyun looks up, then pushes himself off the sand to get back on his feet. He steadies himself, hands on his knees, and when he feels his feet again he rushes to where Chanyeol is. "Lover boy's calling," Chanyeol whispers, finishing with a wink, and Baekhyun drops his gaze to his feet so that he won't have to address the crazy grin on Chanyeol's lips. He already has a handful of things to take care of – a mind clouded with alcohol, sore limbs. Loud thumping in his chest and a thundering pulse in his temples. Kyungsoo saying, on the other end of the line, 'I won't be here forever.' A tiny voice inside Baekhyun that says, 'well, I'm glad you aren't. I'm glad you're coming back.'

Baekhyun snatches his phone from Chanyeol and presses it close to his cheek. "Never make Chanyeol drink again," is Kyungsoo's greeting, followed be a recounting of Chanyeol's tales earlier. It isn't everyday that Kyungsoo is so eager to talk or to share, so Baekhyun only hums and laughs and stays on the line, listening to everything that Kyungsoo has to say. When the clock strikes three in the morning and Baekhyun begins to yawn, Kyungsoo apologizes for keeping him up so late, forcing him to listen to senseless things.

"And just breathing on the line," Kyungsoo whispers. He yawns, but the sound is cut off too quickly. He must have pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. Baekhyun snorts. "And draining your batt."

"Nah, it's fine. I charged it earlier." He was running on 50% battery before the call at midnight. "And I slept the whole afternoon, anyway." He was cleaning his room the entire time.

Kyungsoo hums. "Your phone's sounding off. Battery warning."

Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight, regretting it soon after when he feels his stomach lurch. "Shit."

Here they are again, at the standstill, silence so thick that it feels like tens and thousands of tons weighing down on Baekhyun's shoulders. Beyond Baekhyun's shoulder, the waves crash and that breaks the silence somehow, leaves a tiny dent on the tall glass wall surrounding them. And then Kyungsoo lets out a loud exhale, sending crackles through the receiver. Baekhyun winces.

"Go to bed, Baekhyun," Kyungsoo says. Baekhyun's name rolls off his tongue like oxygen escaping from the slight parting of Kyungsoo lips. Baekhyun's chest tightens. He feels a shiver roll down his spine. "Tomorrow–"

"Tomorrow?"

"Later," Kyungsoo corrects. "I'll catch you later. Now, sleep."

Baekhyun nods, but remembers soon after that there are too many miles between him and Kyungsoo. He brings his phone closer to his lips, then, and whispers, "Good night." Chanyeol's a few good steps away and Jongdae's walking over to where he is, so he swallows the other words threatening to fall from his lips, even the taste of blood in his mouth. The silence thins as Kyungsoo's uneven breathing fades and his light laughter grows louder.

"Mhmm," Kyungsoo says. A heartbeat, and then, "Good night."

Baekhyun waits for exactly ten seconds, counting down to one before hanging up. He can still hear Kyungsoo breathing on the other end of the line, so he keeps his phone pressed to his cheek. Jongdae pokes him in his side but he stays still, eyes fixed on his feet and the silly grin on his lips hidden from the world by his messy hair.

It's been eleven seconds and counting.

Baekhyun doesn't hang up.

≋ ≋ ≋

Baekhyun wakes up to the strangest thing ever.

"Get up. Come on," comes Baekbeom's voice, steady as sea. Baekhyun opens one eye, then does the same with the other after a while. His clock reads five in the morning but Baekbeom looks as if he hasn't gotten any sleep at all. Dark circles plague him and his eyes are hooded, barricaded. His lips are chapped. His cheeks seem hollow, though, and there are a couple of bright red dots on his cheek. Even on Baekbeom's worst days, he doesn't look like shit the morning after he's had too much to drink. It makes Baekhyun's insides turn.

"Pack a week's worth of clothes of something. We need to leave the city by six," Baekbeom continues.

"Pack what?" Baekhyun rubs his eyes, trying to wean sleep off of him. It's too cold outside; the warmth his blanket offers is too alluring. "Where are we going?"

"Seoul," is Baekbeom's curt answer. He presses his lips thinly together. "And bring a white top. I know you have one somewhere."

Baekhyun swallows hard. The last time Baekbeom had requested him to wear white was when– "Hyung, where are we going?"

Baekbeom takes a deep breath, then bites the inside of his cheek. Baekhyun cranes his neck, trying to meet Baekbeom's gaze, but Baekbeom keeps looking elsewhere. "Seoul. Just… do as I say. I'll explain later." Baekbeom reaches out to ruffle his hair. "And take a bath. You stink."

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Baekhyun mumbles. He pushes himself off his bed and holds Baekbeom's gaze for a few seconds. "One week?"

"Five days to a week."

Baekhyun nods in response and grabs himself a fresh change of clothes.

It isn't until Baekbeom locks the door to the house that he speaks again, about anything but Baekhyun moving faster and getting ready for work. "I got a call from umma at 3 a.m.," he narrates, pausing only to fix his bag's strap on his shoulder. "You know the shit that goes down during New Year's celebrations. Everybody gets a bit too drunk and stuff happens and–"

Baekhyun snatches one of the bags from Baekbeom's hands. For someone who's traveling within Korea for a week, Baekbeom sure is bringing too many things with him. "Did… anything happen to her?"

"Nah, not to her." Baekbeom shakes his head. They reach the main road and begin to make their way to Sokcho-si's bus terminal. "Appa, he's… he's the one who got into an accident."

Baekhyun's body gives a tiny jerk. He swallows hard, spit and blood mixing in his throat, and then everything's sinking in too fast – an accident, all these miles between them, the long travel. His father being involved in the said event, and his mother resurfacing from her long period of hiding. The two of them going to Seoul and facing three entirely different fears, ultimately ending in just one thing – a resolution.

Something thick lodges itself in Baekhyun's throat. "How is he?" he dares to ask.

Baekbeom shrugs, doesn't speak. He does let Baekhyun have the window seat, though, when they get to the bus, and doesn't steal one of his earbuds the entire trip.

Sokcho-si is a good eight to nine hours away from Seoul. It's a long path filled with snow, the dusting of white on the road slowly thinning as they approach the city. It feels like forever, though, and Baekhyun begins to feel the strain on his waist and his ass around four hours into the trip. Stretching becomes a chore, and even just pulling back his shoulders to crack his shoulder blades is too much to ask. It's the type of trip that numbs you, not just with the cold weather hovering them, wrapping around them like a quilt, but also because of the sheer length of the trip. Baekhyun hasn't even been away from home for too long.

A song from SM Town starts playing in his ears. Baekhyun laughs to himself, thumb hovering the wheel of his music player. This is one of the Bro Code's staple songs whenever they perform during winter, one of the few song covers they do on stage even if people don't request for it. It talks about dreams in winter and making wishes, about being able to do everything as long as they're in the company of people who care about them. It's silly, thinking about it, but then they were sixteen, seventeen when they first heard it on the radio. It was the next best thing to having snow ball fights at the height of winter.

Baekhyun closes his eyes and makes a wish – for the trip to end, for them to get to Seoul and then warp back into Sokcho-si. He keeps wishing until the songs fades out into silence and transitions into one that sounds a lot like his ring tone.

Baekbeom looks up from texting whoever and nudges him in his side. "Answer it," he mumbles, then cocks his head in the direction of the person across the aisle. "Or you might wake him up."

Baekhyun stills for a moment, then pulls out his earplugs. Kyungsoo's name greets him on the display, and only then does he realize that he's been holding in his breath all this time. "Hey," is Kyungsoo's greeting, coupled with humming so faint Baekhyun might have just been imagining things. "I heard the news."

"Yeah," Baekhyun mumbles. He can see Baekbeom looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, can see the word 'umma' on Baekbeom's screen. There must be a couple of messages in that thread. "Hyung and I are on our way to Seoul."

"I figured as much." Kyungsoo gulps hard. "Let me know when you get here? Seungsoo-hyung and I aren't doing anything so if you need help–"

I don't need help. I need you, Baekhyun wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he nods to himself, then whispers into the receiver, "Yeah. Thanks. I'll… let you know."

A few more hours until they get to their destination, Baekhyun muses. He checks the battery of his player and blows at his bangs when he sees the level sitting close to the red area.

The solution is to put just one song on loop. He chooses a classic, one of his favorite songs from Something Corporate. It's more upbeat than most songs he listens to, but if he's planning to power through three hours of travel then he needs something to keep him sane. Drown out the static in the white noise, because that's what makes him shiver. He falls asleep on the third loop, wakes up to crackling in his ears and something that sounds a lot like honking just outside his window. And then Seoul greets him with a slap to the face – red lights on the street, cars stuck in a standstill. The bustling crowd a few meters away, and tall buildings all around them.

"And we're here," Baekbeom mumbles under his breath.

Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep breath. He's never wished to be back in Sokcho-si so much until today. He's never been truly away from Sokcho-si, after all.

The crowd isn't as hostile and intimidating as he thought it would be, he realizes when they alight the bus. Some of the people are kind enough to offer to assist them, and some help them with the directions their mother gave, detailing how to get to their father's flat in Apgeujong. "It should be a short walk from here, but I suggest you take a cab. You'll have a hard time walking on the streets with all your things," the old lady tells them, then excuses herself to get back to her work. "If you ever get lost, just look for the red signage up there and you'll find your way back here!"

Like a lighthouse, Baekhyun muses. Or a harbor where he can drop anchor and be sure that he won't get lost at sea. He smiles at the old lady, then, and bows to her before helping Baekbeom carry their things to a cab he has just hailed.

The lady wasn't exaggerating when she said it was just a short walk from where they were. They arrive at the building in under ten minutes, confusing turns and all, and the cab driver helps them with their things. Baekbeom's heavy luggage goes first, and then Baekhyun's duffel bag. And then another square-ish bag that looks all too familiar to Baekhyun, before Baekbeom takes the three paper bags he'd been lugging around since the start of the trip. It's almost like they're transporting part of themselves from their little city to this big one that can house at least a hundred little Sokcho-si. Or maybe just ten of them. A new year, another beginning. A new place to get used to, if Baekbeom really is pushing through with his plan to work here, in Seoul. He heard him on the phone with his employer earlier, saying he'll have to push back his starting date. Get some things sorted out first. Then he got off the phone with a wistful smile and a heavy sigh.

Baekhyun reaches deep in his pocket for a few won bills and sends the driver off with a thank you. He watches the cab drive off, disappearing around the block even before he can take a deep breath. For a city so big, Seoul has very little secrets. In every part of the city, it seems as if there are a hundred twists and turns that everybody knows about. It's too early to tell, though – he hasn't been here for more than an hour. He can't possibly know everything about Seoul just by taking a cab from the bus station to this building.

What he does know is that it doesn't feel like home. It feels like school where there are rules to be followed. It feels like–

"Oh. You're here," comes Baekbeom's voice.

Baekhyun looks over his shoulder, then turns on his heel to get a better look at the newcomer. He furrows his eyebrows for a while until recognition hits him. If feels like taking a punch to his gut and twisting the fist right there. Hazel hair that stretches past her shoulders, eyes that are red and sullen, a soft smile that curls at the corners – it almost feels as if he's looking at the mirror but seeing someone else. She even has a tiny mole just north of her upper lip and–

"Baekhyunnie?" she says.

Baekhyun gulps down hard. "Umma," he whispers. Chokes. "It's… nice to see you again."

Her eyebrows furrow. Her cheeks are a light shade of pink, not from make up but probably from the cold wind. Or from this – the welling tears in her eyes that cascade down her cheeks as she takes both him and Baekbeom in her arms. Her breath is hot on the slope of Baekhyun's neck. He shivers at the first contact, the dots of heat sticking to his skin pricking him. And he freezes. He waits for the rest of his body to thaw out but it's too cold out here, and his mother's arms around them are so tight like she fears they might run off if she so much as loosens her hold.

"So nice," she whispers between choked sobs. She shifts a little, and their limbs find a snug fit, bodies aligning. "You've grown up to be such a fine man and Baekhyunnie's so tall now– Have you been getting enough sleep, honey? Didn't Sooneung end just recently? I remember–" She cups one of Baekbeom's cheeks with a hand and ruffles Baekhyun's hair with the other. "Did you father feed you properly that time? He's never been the best cook but he really tries hard–"

"Appa." Baekhyun bites down hard on his bottom lip until he feels a sharp stinging pain crawl from his jaw to his shoulders, then clench around his neck. "Where is he?"

She takes a step back, then looks between them, holding Baekbeom's gaze longer than she does Baekhyun's. Over her shoulder, Baekhyun catches a small group of people emerging from the convenience store, stopping in their tracks to cast them a glance. There's nothing wrong with family reunions in this city, is there? Nothing wrong with showing a bit of emotion, an ounce of vulnerability? So he wipes the corners of his eyes with the ball of his wrist, asks her again when she doesn't utter a word. "Umma, where is he?"

"Upstairs," she replies. "In the flat. I put him in the guest room that he said was supposed to be yours and–"

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. "Take us to him, please."

"Alright," she says. She drops her arms to her sides and takes a few steps back. This way.

Baekbeom casts a glance at him before picking up his luggage. Baekhyun follows suit and keeps his lips pressed together throughout the trip.

His father's flat… isn't something he'd imagine his father living in. The walls are a nice shade of cream, as opposed to the pastel yellow they have back at home. It's neat, too, not a stray piece of paper to be seen in the living room. It's almost as if he doesn't live here, hasn't been living here for the past few months. It makes sense – Baekbeom did mention their father working long nights almost everyday and taking on freelance projects just so he can save up more.

"This is his room," his mother says, gesturing at the room closest to the living room. It's dark inside, but from where he is Baekhyun can see some clothes on the floor, mismatched shoes paired off. Now there's the hint of chaos. "He said before that this is Baekbeom's," she continues, tilting her head in the direction of the room next to his father's. "And this one is Baekhyunnie's."

Baekhyun clears his throat and takes a few steps forward. It's the only room that's lit up in this place, save for the receiving area and the living room. The lighting isn't bright, though, just a nice, warm shade of yellow that's easy on the eyes. Baekhyun pokes his head inside, then, opens the door all the way and looks around. There's a huge, framed picture of him on the wall, the one the study desk is facing. There's a nice view of the city, the one that isn't littered with cars and people, just beyond the window. The soft blues of the comforter on the bed lend a nice, soft touch to the whole ensemble. It feels cozy. It almost feels like home.

He takes a step back when he finds an urn on the desk. He swallows hard. Looking over his shoulder, he asks, "Why… Why in this room?"

Baekbeom reaches out, but he drops his hand to his side soon after. His fingers are trembling, though – Baekhyun can see it even in this dim light. He can see, too, the soft smile on his mother's lips, almost wistful. Almost… laced with regret. But then he hasn't seen his mother in years; it's not fair to jump to conclusions so easily. It just so happens that she looks like him, sort of smiles like him, and Baekhyun knows that whenever he wears this look–

"Because you're the worst scaredy cat in the family," she answers. Family. Baekhyun hears the word ring in his ears. She hiccups, then continues, "And because he… mentioned in his letter that he wanted you to get creative with the design for the urn before he's finally laid to rest."

Baekhyun snorts. He can feel his eyes getting warm, hot liquid rushing to his tear ducts. It's stupid. His father has the weirdest, most stupid last wishes.

"He'd say that," he mumbles. Beside him, Baekbeom looks away and flicks something off the corner of his eyes. "He would."

It takes a while to get settled inside. They don't have much, none that Baekhyun's aware of, but his father has a lot of things stored in such a small, squarish luggage. "He collects the strangest things," Baekbeom comments as he unearths a series of stamps that don't hold any design in particular. Just random geometric shapes. "I bet he kept these because he found the colors nice."

Their mother chuckles. "Don't let him hear you say that. He likes Pantone-themed designs. He says it... breathes life into him."

Baekhyun looks around them, looks at both his mother and brother extracting memories upon memories from tiny objects that his father had bought and collected. "What color does he want the drawing on his urn to be, then?" he asks as he sifts through the Pantone stamps. "The last time we talked, he mentioned he was... beginning to appreciate olive–"

"Olive green, that's right," his mother says. She looks at Baekbeom, then turns back to Baekhyun to ask, "Do you... need time alone to be with your father?"

It's a silly question. His father's nowhere to be found. The guy in the urn, the one who has been turned into ashes... that's not his dad. His father's always brimming with excitement and energy. He's restless, always raring to do something new. Always engaged in a painting project or an exhibit or a package design project for his freelance work. He is color, and ashes are black. Black isn't a color.

And yet he feels his father somehow, when he rests his hand on the cover, when he traces a line down the plain white surface. He can hear his father, and he's saying, 'Don't you dare draw those fields and birds combination that you always drew back in kindergarten, Baekhyun. You can do better than that, come on–'

"Yeah, I think–" He nods, cupping one side of the urn. "I think I'll need some time. Umma, would you know where he keeps his art stuff?"

She offers him a smile. "The drawer in your desk. I mean that desk, where your appa's urn is." She points at it with pursed lips. "We'll be outside if you need us."

And then it's just the two of them, him and his father in an urn and silence. A blank canvas and an entire palette of colors waiting so be artfully slapped onto the urn to depict the kind of person that his father is. To breathe a bit of color into his life. Baekhyun pulls the drawer open and laughs a little when he sees the markers neatly arranged. His father's always been neat with his things but somehow finds his workstation in complete disarray after working on a project. The brushes and paint tubes are in labeled containers, and just beside them are pencils of varying weights. He picks up two pencils, then, keeps the drawer open so he can pick a color whenever he wishes. There's an entire spectrum here, one that his father has saved just for him.

He starts with the basics, though, a simple doodle on the surface using a pencil. He doesn't erase the markings when his grip on the pencil loosens and he draws a weird figure on accident. Instead, he presses on until he's satisfied with the sketch, until he's confident enough to drop the pencil and pick up his brush.

Taking a deep breath, he stands from his seat and makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for his painting. He locks the door behind him when he returns, then takes a brush as soon as he sets the glass down. There's soft music at the back of his mind, something that sounds a lot like one of his dad's favorite songs. 'Thank You For The Music,' or something of that sort. It keeps him going, keeps him from dropping the brush to the floor even if his wrist and arm already feel sore.

He doesn't resurface until three hours after, cheeks smeared with pained and eyes red, swollen. "It's complete," he whispers, smiling. He can feel something cool roll down his cheek, and he wipes that off with the back of his hand. "It's done."

Baekbeom looks up, meeting his gaze, and reaches out to ruffle his hair. And then Baekhyun feels it, the wild, violent tug at the corners of his lips. He doesn't fight it. He doesn't shrug off Baekbeom's warm embrace, either, and the way their bodies align in a weird yet snug fit.

He looks up from where he's buried his face in the crook of Baekbeom's neck and reaches out for his mother. "Together?"

She smiles. He kind of wants to paint it. Later, he thinks to himself. There's still time. "Yes. Together."

Baekbeom pushes the door forward and they all file inside the room, now messy with all the materials lying around. Baekhyun places the brush down on the table, just east of the urn where his father lays. They stay in a small circle, elbows rubbing against each other.

His mother rests her head on his shoulder. He turns to look at her, eyebrows raised, but the question never leaves his lips. He doesn't shrug her off. He lets her stay.

≋ ≋ ≋

Baekhyun stretches his arms overhead, locking his fingers as he pushes an invisible force up. It's ten in the evening and Baekbeom had just gotten off the phone some fifteen minutes ago for food delivery. They would have finished sorting their things earlier, setting up and settling down, but Baekbeom got a bit too emotional when he saw all of the letters they'd sent their father in a small box under his bed. "This is stupid. I didn't even say anything substantial in this letter and yet–" And then Baekbeom pressed the back of his hands to his eyes and lifted his chin. Tilted his face up so he could stop crying. He remembers hearing his mother laugh, remembers feeling his chest grow heavy and his eyes well up with tears. If there was one thing that was hereditary in their family, it was hyperreactive tear ducts. Back in the day, when they used to watch movie re-runs a lot, they'd all be slumped on the sofa and bawling their eyes out not even halfway through the movie.

Baekbeom has calmed down now, eyes no longer red-rimmed and puffy. Their mother asks him to make tea for them, then, "And even seaweed soup, if you're in the mood for it. Your father still has food in the fridge."

"Nope. Too lazy," Baekbeom admits. He rests his chin on her shoulder. From where Baekhyun is, he can see his mother narrowing her eyes at Baekbeom. The smile on her lips gives her away, though. "Be patient. The food will be here any second."

"You called fifteen minutes ago, hyung," Baekhyun comments. "They promised to be here in–"

The doorbell rings, and Baekbeom wears his best, most annoying grin. Baekhyun groans. "You were saying?"

He treads to the door, rolling his sleeves up as he he does so. Their mother turned on the heating system earlier, so the temperature here in the house is a bit more bearable. Much like spring bordering on summer, if he may say so himself. It's warm enough that he can feel a bit of sweat on his nape, on the webs of his hands as he wraps his fingers around the door knob. He twists it, then pulls the knob closer to him, expecting to find a delivery guy at their doorstep, but what greets him makes him take a few steps back. Last he heard, Seungsoo was working part-time in Coffine Gurunaru and not as a pizza delivery guy.

Kyungsoo was definitely unemployed the last time he checked. The last time they talked, at least, which was just a few hours ago. If there was any change, Kyungsoo would've told him. Maybe. Probably.

"Hey," comes Seungsoo's greeting, bright smiles and all. He holds up two bags' worth of food. "Dinner's here!"

Baekhyun looks up at Seungsoo, then at Kyungsoo. "Wait, how did you–"

"Seungsoo-hyung has Baekbeom-hyung's number," Kyungsoo simply says, then takes one step forward. Baekhyun matches that with a step back, and another, and another, until Kyungsoo is well inside the house and just six inches away from him. Too tangible, too real. "Where can we put–"

Baekhyun snatches both bags from Kyungsoo and places them on the table nearby, too small to hold too many things but big enough to serve its purpose right now. Then he lunges forward, three steps closer, just an inch away from Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo hasn't changed much – his eyebags are still the worst Baekhyun has ever seen and his nose is too red from the cold and his bangs still cover his eyes. His lips are plump, red, chapped – just like before. He smells nothing like the sea anymore, though, just a mix of strawberry and mint and a hint of chocolate in his breath. But he smiles and moves his hands like he's hasn't come up to shore yet, still wading through the waters until Baekhyun catches up to him. Like he's missing the sea and he's not quite used to the land yet.

"You look weird," Kyungsoo says, grazing his knuckles against Baekhyun's cheek. Then his fingers relax, unfurling until he's cupping Baekhyun's cheek with his hand. "Oh come on, don't tell me you're about to cry just because–"

"I hate you," Baekhyun whispers. He leans into the touch, nonetheless, and snakes his arms around Kyungsoo's waist to pull him close. "You can't just go away for a week and expect me not to–"

To miss you, he means to say, but words won't suffice. You know that moment when something that was one simmering comes to a furious boil inside you? That moment when the waters rush to the sea, leaving the sand and waiting for it to dry, only to rush to the land with more force than before? That moment when he wants nothing but to bury his face in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck and breathe in deeply, take in everything that Kyungsoo has to offer? To hell with reason – his gut feel has never let him down, anyway. So he takes short, quick breaths until his nostrils are filled with the scent of strawberry in Kyungsoo's hair, on Kyungsoo's skin. He wraps his arms around Kyungsoo tighter until he feels Kyungsoo relax, until Kyungsoo whispers in his ear, "Hey, I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you?" Baekhyun mumbles. "Because the last time you said that–"

"You've got your arms around me. I can't move, much less breathe," Kyungsoo answers. His chuckles are choked, muffled in Baekhyun's hair. The vibrations of Kyungsoo's laughter make his insides turn.

"Sorry," Baekhyun replies. He stays there, though, in the snug fit of their bodies. "You're warm. I'm cold."

He can feel the sharp rise of Kyungsoo's chest, the gradual shift of his muscles against Baekhyun's own. He smiles against Kyungsoo's skin, not minding Kyungsoo shaking his head.

"You silly kid."

They have dinner in the living room, sitting on the carpeted floor with boxes and cartons of take out food all around them. Baekhyun's mother excuses herself a few minutes after she finishes eating, cleaning up whatever mess she can. "Don't stay up too late. We've got a long day tomorrow," she tells them before leaving the flat to go home, and Baekhyun allows himself to watch her walk to the door, allows her to catch him staring. Her eyes are softest when she's hit with yellow light, Baekhyun muses. It almost makes his breath hitch. From where he is, she looks three years younger, like nothing has changed in her. Like nothing has changed between them. That the incident three years ago? That never happened. They can sweep that under the rug and pretend they didn't catch her making out with another man in the room she shares with her husband.

Except they can't change things. They can only learn from it, and then move on. Baekhyun rubs his eyes at the same time that his mother does. Her eyeliner runs, scoring a line down her cheek. He blows a kiss her way, then, as if wishing her a safe trip. Only then does she turn on her heel and step outside the house, closing the door behind her.

"That went well," Kyungsoo mentions once Baekhyun returns to the living room.

"Could've gone better," he replies, chuckling. "I seriously can't imagine how things would have been if we saw her again under different circumstances."

He means, if he'd been more wild and reckless. If they were back home in Sokcho-si and everytime he looked at his father's bed, he saw nothing but the image of his mother with someone else, a stranger. "I guess this is appa's dying wish. Part of it, at least – for the family to be okay again."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him. His lips are twisted in a weird manner, like he can't decide if he's amused or he just wants to laugh at Baekhyun. Maybe it's both. "And when did you become so wise?"

Baekhyun shrugs. "I guess those nine hours of travel messed with my mind or something."

"Best nine hours of your life, if it finally fixed you."

"Are you saying that I'm broken?"

"I'm saying," Kyungsoo begins, pausing to suck in his bottom lip. "You look... better."

Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows a little, and before he even gets to ask what Kyungsoo means by that Kyungsoo is already inching closer. Kyungsoo shifts in his position, twisting his torso so that they're facing each other. Their eyes meet. Baekhyun can see himself reflected in Kyungsoo's own, clear and crisp. Kyungsoo reaches out, then, a corner of his mouth tugging up as he traces the curve of Baekhyun's cheek with his fingers. Kyungsoo's hand feels so cool on his skin, like Kyungsoo means to leave stinging patches of cold in all the places that he's touched him. He tries not to shake and shiver, though. He tries not to look away because if he so much as thinks of blinking, he might miss something. There's always an underlying message there, somewhere, in the way Kyungsoo darts out his tongue and licks his bottom lip. In the way he looks at Baekhyun, just looks at him, like he's trying to tell him something but can't find the words for it yet.

Well then, we have a problem, Baekhyun muses. His vocabulary has been failing him these past few days and he's shit at body language. Kyungsoo shouldn't be making this hard for him. They're supposed to know each other inside and out, like the back of their hand. Better than they know themselves. And yet there's the sneaking suspicion that there's a thin veil between them, keeping them apart and urging them to lean closer to get a better look at each other.

"Better?"

Kyungsoo hums. "Better," he repeats. He drops his hand on Baekhyun's collarbone. There's the light pressure of Kyungsoo's thumb against the base of his throat, keeping him from doing anything but looking into his eyes. Keeping him from taking a breath too quick. He swallows against it without meaning to, and it triggers a tremble of Kyungsoo's lips. "Like you're a changed man."

Change. Baekhyun snorts, but the sound come short, gets trapped between his teeth. So he grins, groans, kicks Kyungsoo in the calf but misses by a long shot. "Hey, I wasn't so bad before."

Kyungsoo shakes his head. He's still smiling, the same push and pull at the corners of his lips. Baekhyun feels his stomach do a teeny, tiny somersault, in response, feels the weight of the crash crawl under his skin and make his abdomen coil. It makes him want to throw up, puke rainbows or something, but Kyungsoo's making it impossible to do anything with his gaze fixed on nothing, no one else but Baekhyun. He feels frozen, and the heat in his cheeks is the only thing that's thawing him out.

"You weren't," Kyungsoo continues. "You just look... brighter now."

He scowls. "Is that a stab at my intelligence or something? You're only better than me at English."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and snakes his hand up Baekhyun's nape, then grabs a fistful of his hair so hard that Baekhyun almost screams. "I take it back. You're still awful," Kyungsoo mumbles. He moves away, then, inch per inch, but Baekhyun is faster, reaches forward to pinch him in his stomach and earns himself a scowl.

Kyungsoo widens his eyes at him. Baekhyun grins. He's never felt smarter and wiser his entire life.

They start wrapping up at midnight, Baekbeom and Seungsoo taking out the trash and delegating washing duties to the younger ones. They only have five glasses to wash, really, so it shouldn't take long, but it's been a week since they've seen each other and what's wrong with a bit of fun in the kitchen. So when Kyungsoo opens the tap, meaning to rinse the mouth of the glass he's holding, Baekhyun snatches the glass from him and brings his palm close to faucet to spray water on Kyungsoo's face. Kyungsoo stares at him at first, wide-eyed, squinting liking he's thinking of the best possible way to exact revenge. Then he's wearing the most menacing grin, the corners of his mouth tugged up all the way. He looks like an animal on the hunt, and Baekhyun is his taunting prey.

Baekhyun cups his hands and sloshes water on Kyungsoo's face. Kyungsoo scowls, then gives Baekhyun a dose of his own medicine by copying the exact same move he'd done to start the fight. Rinse and repeat, until their bangs are already sticking to their foreheads, until Baekhyun catches a glimpse of Kyungsoo's shirt drenched in water, clinging to his skin like a lifeline. He traces the shallow grooves on Kyungsoo's stomach with his gaze, and then he's slipping on a puddle in the floor, waving his hands in the air in an attempt to hold onto something for balance.

"Easy–" Kyungsoo catches him by the wrist, then pulls him up back to his feet. Baekhyun's knees give a light shake when the flash of concern on Kyungsoo's features eases into a sly smile, Baekhyun jabs him in the gut and pulls him down along with him. They end up in a mess of limbs, Baekhyun with his back pressed to the wet floor and Kyungsoo with his face buried in Baekhyun's stomach.

Wrong again, Baekhyun tells himself. He shakes his head. This isn't the gentle waves of summer guiding him back to shore; this is the strong tides of autumn crashing over him, making him crash into Kyungsoo's waiting arms.

≋ ≋ ≋

Baekhyun wakes up with a dull ache in his ribs. He looks around, then checks the time – it's only six in the morning. He rubs his eyes, then, stretching out on the bed and rolling over so that his face is buried in his pillow. The guests won't start coming until nine in the morning, anyway, and even if he gets up at seven they still won't be late. St. Mary's Hospital is just a ten-minute car ride from where they are, after all, fifteen with weak knees factored in. Twenty if Baekbeom is extra chatty at such an early hour and Baekhyun wants nothing but for Baekbeom to just keep quiet. Baekbeom's fairly silent today, though, only asking him from time to time if he's alright, if the urn is heavy. "Are you sure you really want an Americano even if you've only been drinking instant coffee all your life?"

"There's a first time for everything, hyung," Baekhyun says. It's his first time in Seoul, his first morning in the big city. It's the first time in so long that he's gotten up at six in the morning to go to a funeral that he, himself, will be helping out at. Americano is in order. "Besides, Kyungsoo says it's good. I'm sure he won't recommend–"

"Remember the time he said the broth wasn't too spicy? Didn't it make you cry?"

Baekhyun frowns. "I didn't cry. I just… sweat through my eyes."

"That's gross," Baekbeom replies. He reaches out, then snakes an arm around Baekhyun's shoulder to pull him closer. "No Americano for you. Cappuccino is good. Or latte. Or some of those sweet stuff that's 90% sugar and 10% coffee."

Baekhyun looks up, eyebrows cocking. "They have that here?" The ghost of a grin pulls up the corners of Baekbeom's mouth, then, and Baekhyun shakes his head even before Baekbeom can say a thing. "Shut up, I won't pass out because of coffee! I'm having an Americano, the biggest cup!"

Fast forward three hours later, and his short, quick breaths have turned into heavy breathing. He can feel a bead of sweat tracing the curve of his cheek. It's not even hot in here, even with the volume of people in the room. He flicks it away, but not before acknowledging one of his father's co-workers, returning the 90-degree bow. The Americano sure fucked up with his system. Maybe he should've gone for the cappuccino or the latte. Or hot chocolate. You can never go wrong with hot chocolate.

"You okay there?" Baekbeom asks. "Wanna switch? I can do the talking and you just usher the guests to the dining area. Both Soo's are here to help."

He gives his brother a weak smile, then clutches at his shirt before nodding at him. "I'll be back, appa," he whispers, tracing the curves of the urn with his fingers before retreating to the other side of the room.

The tables are already free of paper plates and plastic cups when he gets there. The sight of Kyungsoo, rid of his coat and sleeves rolled up a little as he arranges the snacks in neat lines on the table, greets him. It almost looks funny, Kyungsoo busying himself with funeral arrangements when he's not even part of the family, but then they've known each other long enough to be considered… an extension of each other's families. He knows Seungsoo's dirty secrets in the same way that Kyungsoo knows most of Baekbeom's silliest blunders. Seungsoo used to have the bruises on Baekhyun's legs and how he got them memorized. It's only Kyungsoo's mother who can appreciate Baekbeom's lack of skill in cooking because Baekbeom ends up loving everything she cooks if and when she has time to do so.

He also knows that Kyungsoo hates it when he's startled so he calls Kyungsoo's name as a greeting, voice just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"Oh, hey." Kyungsoo snaps up straight, but returns to the items he's arranging to add one last piece of candy to the bowl of sweets. "I love the snack selection. Who picked this out?"

Baekhyun laughs a little. "Umma. She says those are classics." Mentos, a couple of crackers whose names escape Baekhyun. He can see a familiar lollipop brand, as well, the one his mother used to buy for him on her way home from work. "I told her I could cook for the guests but eh." He shrugs. "I was hoping to have gamja ongsimi today."

Kyungsoo locks his arms behind his back, flexing his fingers. "You can always cook that at home."

"In Sokcho-si?" Baekhyun chuckles. "Yours or mine?"

Kyungsoo looks up, furrows his eyebrows for a while like he's considering something. He eases the knot of his brows soon after, though, then says, "Here in Seoul. While you're still here, at least. When are you going back?"

"When are you going back to Sokchi-si?" Baekhyun deflects. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "Kidding, kidding… Hyung and I have five more days to spare here. Though I might leave earlier because he has to take care of some stuff here. For his part-time and stuff. I mean, we can't just… leave the house there for a long time so I have to go back–"

Kyungsoo smiles a little. "A week isn't a long time."

"A week is a week. It's six days more than a day." Baekhyun presses his lips together in a thin, thin line. He can almost feel his teeth digging into his skin. The sting is here, noticeable, but not enough to numb his other senses. "Besides, college apps–"

"Oh. Right." Kyungsoo nods. He turns on his heel, then, and gives the tray of food one last look before walking over to where Baekhyun is. "SKY's opening applications on the 5th. Are Chanyeol and Jongdae working on theirs already?"

Baekhyun shrugs. He takes a step away when he sees Kyungsoo drumming his fingers in his sides. The last time he saw this was weeks ago, in the beach, with half of his mind sloshing in alcohol and the other half wondering when Kyungsoo started feeling like a fucking furnace. Kyungsoo was, at most, warm on the outside. Dig deeper and you'll find the lava at the core, the heat in his every touch and his gaze.

"Beats me."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him, but says nothing else. They stand beside each other near the door, waiting for the guests to arrive. The thumping in his chest is still loud, almost thundering, so he does what he thinks is best for him – he slumps against the wall and closes his eyes, relishing the only silence he'll ever enjoy.

≋ ≋ ≋

"And that's it for today," Baekbeom says as he watches one of the staff members at St. Mary's Hospital lock up the room. Baekhyun presses his face close to the door, trying to check if he can see the urn from outside, but the glaze on the glass wall is too heavy and his eyesight is shit in the evening. It's still early, though, just a little past 9 p.m., but somehow Seoul's night lights have already blinded him, damaged his eyesight beyond repair. There's always a thin veil of white now, whenever he looks around and tries to refocus his vision. He can barely make out the details on the standee they'd placed near the entrance. It's become difficult to assume a safe distance from people, too – a foot away from his mother, two feet from his brother lest he get his hair in a mess. A few good meters form everyone else. Just a hitch of the breath away from Kyungsoo.

"Do you guys have enough energy to eat out?" Seungsoo asks. "Or do you just want to have food delivered?"

"Dinner outside sounds like a–" Baekhyun's mother stops in her tracks, fishing for her phone in her pocket. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

Baekhyun gives her a curt nod in response. Some things never change, he muses. It's a bit comforting.

His mother ends up having to excuse herself, saying that she needs to return to the office to fix a couple of 'bubus'. She gives them all a tight hug, a collision of lumped bodies in the height of winter. "Thank you for helping out," she tells the Do siblings, "We'd be happy to have you again if you have time. But only if you have time to spare, okay?" She then ruffles her sons' hair, patting the crown before turning around to leave. "Don't do anything crazy in Seoul. I'm watching you," she tells them before walking off, disappearing into a corner of the street.

"Crazy things," Seungsoo mumbles. They've started walking to the train station, just a quick ten minute walk from where they are. "Security's too tight here in Seoul to do anything weird or crazy."

And yet you still risked the family name and did pot before, says a voice at the back of Baekhyun's mind. He pushes that further back, until Baekbeom's laughter can drown out the voice in his head. "And people are always in a rush to do things," he says, instead. He gestures at the pedestrian crossing nearby. They're only given ten seconds to cross the wide road. Are the officials here expecting them to leap from one side of the road to the other? Who even does that?

"Well, Seoul is Seoul," Seungsoo replies. Beside Baekhyun, Kyungsoo nods in quick succession. In the span of five seconds, they almost run into an office worker running from one side of the road to the other, a couple holding hands, and a teenager with a file case rushing to wherever. Cram school, Baekhyun suspects – her hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she's mumbling under her breath while mindlessly thumbing through the pages of her book. It can't be anything else. "Everyone's expected to be at work or school by a certain time, go home before 8 p.m.. Then school again for students. So there's always this feeling that you have to get as many things done as possible in the shortest period of time."

"There's no time to enjoy things, then?" Baekhyun kicks at a pebble. There's a bit too much force. He almost hits Baekbeom in the calf. "That's saddening. Seoul seems like a nice place to live in. I mean, it's like a mix of the old and the new–" Work and play, a house and a home. The noise is only overwhelming at first, but then they were welcomed to the city by honking cars and a thick crowd of people crossing the street. How would you expect a beach boy to feel?

"So you like it here?" Kyungsoo asks, voice faint and low. His breath comes out in small puffs of white. His lips are more chapped than ever, and Baekhyun just wants to either hand Kyungsoo his lip balm or apply it on Kyungsoo's lips, instead. "You don't think it's such a bad place anymore?"

"I didn't say that." He looks away, rubbing the tip of his nose. "I said it's sad that people are always in a rush–"

"And won't even stop to look around and at the people around them." Kyungsoo blows hot air into his cupped hands, but he only succeeds in trembling all over. Baekhyun stops in his tracks, then, and catches a part of his gloves with his teeth, pulling it off from the snug fit in his hands. He reaches out for Kyungsoo's hand, wrapping his fingers around Kyungsoo's wrist then slipping them in the webs of Kyungsoo's hand. Kyungsoo is cold, the pads of his fingers leaving chilling spots on Baekhyun's skin, but it doesn't sting. At most, it makes Baekhyun shiver, but the cool sensation is soon replaced with warmth when he digs their intertwined hands in his pocket.

"Take it," he mumbles. He hands Kyungsoo his other glove. "I don't want to see you freeze to death."

Kyungsoo snorts, but his eyes are soft. Almost like he's sleepy but not quite, because Baekhyun can clearly see himself reflected in Kyungsoo's wide eyes. "Since when did you care?"

"Since you brought up the topic of gamja ongsimi." A long time ago, though, if he's being honest.

"Oh! Speaking of–" Seungsoo pulls out his phone from his pocket. From where Baekhyun is, he can only see Seungsoo doing a quick search on something and loading a map. He can't even read the letters. "I know a place nearby where they have great gamja ongsimi. Not as good as Baekhyunnie's but it will do."

He means, not as authentic as the one in Sokcho-si. Kyungsoo half-chuckles, half-snorts. Maybe Baekhyun isn't alone in thinking the same thing.

"Sinsadong, hyung?" Kyungsoo asks.

"Nope. It's somewhere in Insadong. Up north." Seungsoo looks at them, then lets out a loud exhale. "You guys in? We should be there in thirty minutes or less if we take the 10:15 train."

"I'm good," Baekbeom says, which more or less translates to Baekhyun agreeing, as well. He wouldn't want to wander around Seoul alone. It's too late in the evening to be walking down foreign streets, after all. He still needs to get used to wicked turns of the streets, Seoul's mysteries. So Baekhyun follows Baekbeom's shadow, eventually falling into step with Kyungsoo and letting his friend lead the way.

≋ ≋ ≋

Seoul takes on a different form everytime Baekhyun dares to look the other way. When they got here, it looked like a packed mall with the thick crowd and the crazy traffic on the road. A few hours after, it began to take on the form of an old movie, hitting him with nostalgia when they unearthed his father's things in the flat one by one. The day after, it seemed normal, just the right kind of 'noisy', but then he's spent most of his day in the funeral home. Now, with Seoul's night lights blinding him, it feels like a modern beach, and extension of Sokcho-si, if not a hidden section of it.

"You can see the Han from here," Kyungsoo mentions, then points at something beyond the window of the train. Baekhyun can make out the Christmas lights lined along the railing separating land from sea. It looks a lot like the harbor at Donghae. "It's nice. The acoustics there are great."

"Of course you had to check the acoustics," he replies, chuckling. Kyungsoo's still pointing outside. The Han goes on forever. "Do people do free concerts there or something?"

Kyungsoo drops his hand to his knee then turns to face Baekhyun with wide eyes. "Sometimes," he says, pausing just before the second syllable like he isn't sure of what he's saying or why he's saying it. "They do more there–" He shifts, then, to his left, then points at a more lit up section of the city. It's a nice mix of white and yellow. The red lights, Baekhyun isn't so sure if he'll fall in love with. "Hongdae. Epik High used to do open concerts in the playground there."

"Oh, the playground!" He can still remember Epik High's music video that Chanyeol wouldn't stop talking about for two weeks. Friday of the second week, he'd finally given in and watched it. Then he clicked something from Royal Pirates and sort of became obsessed with watching videos on Youtube ever since. He has no regrets. "And then they do tiny concerts in the streets there, too, right?"

"Yeah. Seungsoo-hyung and his band had a couple of shows there. They stopped doing lives two years ago." Kyungsoo presses his lips together, like he's still deciding between continuing or just letting Baekhyun figure out the rest. It works, either way – it's not as if Seungsoo's slip up two years ago is a secret to him. "Seoul has this… mandate against hosting shows on streets now, says it's inconvenient for people walking around. But there are still a couple of free concerts in Hongdae every so often. You just have to hang around long enough to catch them."

"Well then let people fly," he grumbles.

"You're funny," is all that Kyungsoo says. He shakes his head, then points at another place close by, something he calls Myeongdong, giving him a brief history of the place.

The thirty-minute ride turns into a mini tour where Kyungsoo shows Baekhyun different places in Seoul at night. Insadong seems to be his favorite, being the city's hub for creativity and art, and he seems to hate Hongdae as much as he loves it. "It's nice if you're looking at enjoying night life, but I just really want to walk around at night so that place isn't good for me," he reasons. There's Yeouido, too, at the same side of the river, and Kyungsoo promises to take him there when the weather's better. When the snow clears. "Or maybe during spring, when you–"

"When I?"

"Come to visit?" Kyungsoo rubs the underside of his nose. It's gross, sort of. It's also the sort of thing Jongdae had once called Baekhyun out on. 'Is that a couple thing or what?' Jongdae had asked, and Baekhyun made it clear to drop the couple thing. Days after, the conversation still haunts him. It's like digging your own grave, resurfacing for a time, then going back to digging only to hit a really bad angle. Shovel's broken now; he'll have to dig with his hands.

Baekhyun looks at his own hands and finds the tip of his nose itching. He doesn't pinch it, and neither does he rub at it. "I could. Maybe," he singsongs. Kyungsoo's lips twitch in what Baekhyun knows is the beginning of an ugly smile. "If I have time. I'll probably be busy then with acads and stuff. You know me, I'm a hardworker–"

"Too much," Kyungsoo says, interrupting. Baekhyun can't tell yet if Kyungsoo's pertaining to Kyungsoo knowing him or him being a hardworker. It works, either way. "Come over and visit in spring. Just one weekend. I'm sure you'll have time."

Something in Kyungsoo's eyes flickers, and then he's pointing at another place. "That one's Namsan Tower," Kyungsoo says even before Baekhyun can say, I can always make time for you.

They make it to the place that serves gamja ongsimi just thirty minutes before the restaurant closes. "Passable," Baekhyun comments, trying not to grin. Kyungsoo does it for him, or at least he's grinning now after downing the rest of his soup in one gulp. At the back of Baekhyun's mind, he thinks he catches Kyungsoo saying something like 'yeah, it's okay', but in reality Kyungsoo's just sitting there, lips parted. Like he means to say something but he hasn't found the right words yet. Baekhyun might've been just imagining things. So he takes another sip and holds off his final verdict until they're eating pineapple, waiting for the bill.

"It's okay," Baekhyun says. He catches a slice of pineapple between his teeth as the same time that Kyungsoo starts drumming his fingers on Baekhyun's thigh. He looks at Kyungsoo, meeting his eyes, then swallows the fruit. "It's alight."

≋ ≋ ≋

The actual funeral takes place Thursday that week, at ten in the morning. Baekbeom and Seungsoo take care of the details for the funeral rites, while Baekhyun's mother takes care of settling payments for the facility. Baekhyun is in charge of cleaning up. By now, he already has the way Kyungsoo arranges the snacks memorized. He uses the same order when he disposes of the trash – foil wrappers for chips first, then for the biscuits. Candy trash goes into the trash bag last. He seals it then brings it to the back door of the facility. He returns to clean up the rest of the mess. When he gets back, though, Kyungsoo has already beaten him to it, sleeves rolled up when he crouches to pick up the candy wrappers on the floor.

"Dunk 'em here," Baekhyun says as he opens the bag for Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo looks up, only briefly, then fixes his attention back down on the trash. "And please, undo the button of your coat. It's begging to be unbuttoned."

"You don't know how my coat feels about this arrangement," Kyungsoo mutters. His lips are pressed thinly, but he isn't frowning. He just isn't smiling, but then they all haven't had anything to eat yet. "And no, I didn't gain weight."

Baekhyun snorts. "Not saying anything."

"You're saying–" Kyungsoo pauses, resting his hands on his knees before getting back to his feet. "That Seoul has changed the way my suit fits me. It hasn't."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really." Kyungsoo dusts himself off, then reaches over to get the rubbing alcohol behind Baekhyun. On the reflection in the mirror, it looks as if Kyungsoo's going for a hug as a response. Or an explanation. "You seem to be okay with the city now, though. It's… an interesting change."

'Okay' is an understatement for how Baekhyun feels about the city. He likes it… for now. Kyungsoo and Seungsoo took them on a really quick tour of the Insadong area after dinner on their fourth day. Baekhyun found himself snapping too many pictures of the graffiti on the walls. He'd use the illustration that looks a lot like Kyungsoo as his wallpaper later. The morning after, Seungsoo took him to an entire street where he can grab cheap food. "Without sacrificing taste and quality," Seungsoo had even said then. Baekhyun remembers agreeing and blindly chewing on three pieces of very hot tteokbokki.

"Too early to tell," Baekhyun says. He chews on his bottom lip until he catches Kyungsoo cocking an eyebrow at him. "Fine, it's a nice place. People change. I can like Seoul even if I've been… iffy about it my entire life!"

'Iffy' doesn't quite describe the way he used to feel about Seoul. Distaste, hatred, anger – those are better options, but Baekhyun can't even remember how it feels to be revolted by the mere thought of the city. It comes with age, he supposes, finding it easier to let go. During the first year of the separation, he groaned and threw a fit whenever Baekbeom mentioned The S Word. The second year, he'd calmed down considerably and just rolled his eyes. Occasionally, he'd frown if the subject came up, but none of the physical acts of violence anymore. On the third year, the hatered turned into something more repressed. A tiny vessel of negativity inside him, bottling up until he could throw it all away in one go. He'd turn to books whenever he felt like ripping something apart. He'd bury his face in reading materials and focus on studying instead of punching the wall or his pillows or his own thighs. After Sooneung, he'd thrown the bottle into the ocean. From time to time, it would resurface, like a bruise on his wrist he doesn't recall getting. Then everything hits him again, with the force of a thousand waves – that winter night, her mother's limbs entangled in someone else's own. His father's clenched fists and him telling them, in his softest voice, 'Go to Seungsoo and Kyungsoo's house first. Appa just needs to fix a few things.'

"People change," Kyungsoo repeats. Snatching the plastic bag from Baekhyun, he continues, "Not always for the good, but the change in this guy's really good. Did him well."

Baekhyun snorts. "At least call me by name."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. His shoulders fall forward and his cheeks are no longer puffed up in tight circles. He looks oddly calm, better. "You've changed, Baekhyun," he says. "And it's for the good. All good."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. The grin tugging up at the corners of his mouth is too strong. He stops putting up a fight and lets it win.

Baekbeom leads a small group of twelve to the mausoleum, staying in front while holding the urn with both hands. He and his mother stay just a few steps behind. His mother throws Baekbeom occasional glances, ready to lend him a shoulder to cry on anytime, but Baekhyun's there mostly to help Baekbeom carry the urn if needed. When he'd transported it from the flat to the funeral chamber, he'd ended up with sore arms and aching hands. This is it, he thought that time, this is what people probably mean by the pain of bearing the loss of a relative. The literal weight of it. The good thing about it was that the ache in his muscles burned more than the one in his chest. The bad thing was that it was so effective a distraction that it pushed back all the tears threatening to fall from him lips that time and never gave him the opportunity to let it out.

Baekbeom stops in his tracks when they reach the entrance. He closes his eyes and clutches the urn close to his chest. Baekhyun chokes on his own spit. He opens his mouth to say something, but his throat is dry and it clenches around words he can't even articulate. Beside him, he hears his mother sob a little. It makes his chest constrict, like a finger has finally pulled a trigger. Everything comes back to him in a wave of emotions: his father teaching him how to draw, then laughing when he stops halfway through and trades drawing for singing using Baekbeom's maracas. His father teaching him how to play basketball and then getting hit in the crotch when Baekhyun makes a really bad pass. His father seated among the parents of the top five students in his grade school graduating class. His father taking him in his arms after he receives the 'outstanding in good manners and right conduct' award, then whispering in his ear, again and again, "You've made me so proud, son."

"I'll do it," Baekhyun offers. Baekbeom's body gives a tiny jerk, then he's looking over his shoulder to meet Baekhyun in the eye. "Or we can all, y'know. You, me, umma–"

Baekbeom's shoulders give a sharp rise, then they're falling forward. "Together," he says, the turns around so that he's facing them both. "The three of us, we'll hand him over together.

Baekhyun looks to his side and reaches out for his mother's hand. She furrows her eyebrows for a while and her lips give a funny twitch, but she grips his hand anyway. The fit is loose, weird, like this skin is foreign and he wasn't once part of her, but the warmth is familiar. Familiar enough that despite her callous skin, he finds it easy to make his fingers relax. Familiar enough that he falls back into the easy habit of pulling her to his side in a one-armed hug.

Familiar enough that they don't have to wait for a cue to start walking, but they still fall into step. Familiar enough that they exchange soft laughter when they make eye contact, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks too red.

"Ready?" Baekbeom asks.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. He risks a glance over his shoulder and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. So he nods, firm and resolute, and echoes Baekbeom's words like they're his own.

"Ready," he says. He likes the sound of his own voice. He might even fall in love with it. "Ready whenever you are."

Relapse hits like a fucking truck at eight in the evening. The upside: he makes it to Jamsil Rail Bridge without any tears at all. The downside: he's bawling like a baby now, sobs echoing in the quiet place. It's a good thing there aren't much people passing by, else he'd feel ten times worse. Kyungsoo doesn't seem to have a problem, though, just stays still beside him and doesn't say a thing. The last time he whispered something was when two people rode their bike behind them. And then there was some movement in the water and Kyungsoo let out the most amused 'ooh'.

Kyungsoo's drumming his fingers on his thighs now. And then he's humming, like he's slowly easing Baekhyun back into the concept of holding normal conversations with humans without bursting into tears five minutes after the other starts talking.

"I'm cold," Baekhyun mumbles. He looks to the side, just peeking from his bangs, and shivers. It's not a complete lie – he'd accidentally left his coat with Baekbeom before heading to Jamsil and now he's left with only two layers of clothes. Not even the thick blazer he's wearing right now can help him get through this cold. "Hug me."

Kyungsoo snorts, but moves closer anyway. He rests his chin on Baekhyun's shoulder and wraps his arms around him without another word. Kyungsoo isn't the warmest person around, but the heat of their pressed bodies is enough to thaw Baekhyun out. It's a nice, snug fit. "Better?"

Baekhyun shivers. Kyungsoo's breath fans on his nape and tickles him, pricks him. Like tiny, unassuming daggers that score a line along his skin and leave strokes of heat there. Kyungsoo's hold on him is loose enough not to hurt, but tight enough that Baekhyun can feel the steady thump-thadump of Kyungsoo's pulse on his skin. And then the water before them moves again, just a tiny ripple that pulls up at the corners of Baekhyun's mouth.

"You like the sound of water too much," Kyungsoo whispers. His voice sounds like a vibration with Kyungsoo's lips pressed to the back of his ear.

"Nah, it just–" He giggles a little when Kyungsoo breathes out, a puff of hot air spilling from the corners of his lips. "Stop that, I am having a moment–"

"All the more reason for me not to stop, then."

"You are so weird," Baekhyun groans. "Why are we friends?"

Kyungsoo stops, but Baekhyun can feel his Kyungsoo's slow-forming smile against his skin. "Why are we friends?"

On a normal day, it would be easy to answer: Kyungsoo's the only one who has enough patience to sit through Baekhyun's endless recounting of how much of a tear-jerker Johnathan Livingston Seagull is, while Baekhyun's the only one who can stand Kyungsoo's brand of silence-not silence. The kind of stillness in the air that crawls up the back of your neck and draws lazy patterns on your warm skin until you lean into the touch and crumble. Baekhyun can't say he's a fan, but he does find it relaxing at times. Soothing. Welcoming.

Kyungsoo's the only one who has his chicken preference by heart. Kyungsoo's the only one who'd (un)willingly get up with him at six in the morning just to help out with catching fish because, "Yixing-hyung said he needed help and I need to help him so–" And Kyungsoo's the only one who knows all these things, figured them out without even asking. "I got you spicy this time because it's the first snowfall and they don't have soy sauce for the hwaleo hoe," Baekhyun remembers Kyungsoo saying the first day of winter last year. "Okay, that didn't make sense but you get what I mean, right?"

"It's a mystery," Baekhyun whispers. He snakes his hands up Kyungsoo's arms and pulls him even closer. A heartbeat, then, "Hey, thanks. For everything." He rubs the tip of his nose against the back of Kyungsoo's hand. Kyungsoo makes a tiny sound of disgruntlement, but it fades out into light laughter. "Especially today."

A tiny puff of snow lands on the tip of his nose, and he blows at it until it drifts off somewhere. It lands on his hand, and before he can even shiver at the cool contact, Kyungsoo rests his palm atop Baekhyun's own. "It's part of my job," he answers. The last syllable is almost inaudible, like Kyungsoo meant to say something else but can't backpedal anymore. Or maybe he's trying to come up with something to say but can't. Winter freezes up sense and logic in people's minds. Baekhyun won't be surprised if the same was true for Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo clears his throat, tries again. This time, he says, "It's nothing. I'm just doing what I have to do." He coughs, turning to face the other side. Baekhyun takes this as an opportunity to lean back and rest his head on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "As a friend."

"Yeah," Baekhyun whispers. His throat itches, but he can't cough it out. "I've been a pretty shitty friend the past few weeks. Sorry. I–" He sucks in his left cheek, wincing a little when he feels his teeth dig into his skin. "The dreams thing, I know you've been wanting to study in Seoul all your life–"

"Not Seoul. Not really." Kyungsoo chuckles. He's facing front again, and his cheek feels strangely warm against Baekhyun's own. "I just want to get into broadcasting. Any good school would've been fine."

"But it just has to be K-ARTS."

"It has to be the best. Coincidentally, K-ARTS has some of the best communications programs in the country," Kyungsoo corrects. He tilts his head a little, and some of his hair catches on Baekhyun's lips. He tries to sputter the stray strands out but he only succeeds in getting more in his mouth. Kyungsoo doesn't seem to be bothered, though, still rubbing slow circles on the back of Baekhyun's hand with his thumb. "And since you aren't pursuing your broadcasting dreams, I'm doing it for you."

Baekhyun snorts. He can feel his pulse quicken in his palms, though. They're getting sticky. It's not even warm enough for him to be sweating here. "You're doing it for me?"

"You and me. Mostly for myself." Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Don't flatter yourself."

"But you said–"

"I said, it just so happens that I like broadcasting, as well." He can feel the shift of Kyungsoo's muscle, the slow rise of Kyungsoo's shoulders against his back. It feels like a casual shrug, but there's a lilt in Kyungsoo's voice. It almost makes Baekhyun feel Kyungsoo's thinking and overthinking his words. And they've never had to give their speech a careful though when it's just them talking. "You're just lucky."

"I am," Baekhyun admits. He takes a deep breath, then tilts his head until his nose is buried in Kyungsoo's cheek. "Do you… think I'm a good fit here in Seoul?"

Kyungsoo's body gives a tiny jerk just enough to jostle the drowsiness out of Baekhyun's system. He shifts in his position, then, prying himself from Baekhyun's grasp. Then he's taking his coat off and dumping it in Baekhyun's direction, mumbling, "Take it. You're cold," before sitting on the grass with his legs crossed. He burrows his hands in the sleeves of his blazer. He doesn't say anything else, just kind of stares at Baekhyun with eyes squinted and his head tilted. "Put it on before I change my mind," he says. His teeth aren't chattering yet. "I said, put it on."

"It's hard to move around in this weather, okay! Geez…" Baekhyun slips the coat on, nonetheless, sleeves sliding down his arms in a snug fit. "So impatient. You weren't like this when you–"

"Ask me again," Kyungsoo says. "Now that you're warm and there's a lesser chance of the cold messing with your brain, ask me again."

Baekhyun blinks, and something lodges itself inside him. He can feel his quickening pulse at the base of his throat. It's his teeth that's chattering, not Kyungsoo's. He's the one who's supposed to be warm. But then he's the stranger here, the one who's spent less time in Seoul and more time wondering how the city will change him. Ruin him. And Kyungsoo hasn't changed yet. His eyes are still big and his eye bags are as dark as ever and there's still that tiny passageway hidden beneath the barricaded door of his eyes. His lips are still terribly chapped. If anything, it's this foreign air, void of the scent of the sea, that's shining a light of familiarity upon Kyungsoo. Making him glow, setting him aflame.

"Will I fit in here in Seoul?" Baekhyun asks again. He licks his lips and shivers at the sharp line of cold that seeps through the cracks on his skin. "Do you… think I'll be a good fit here? I mean, I've never tried living outside Sokcho-si before."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him, and the hard corners of his mouth soften. One side quirks up in a wicked grin, until Kyungsoo's smiling that full smile of his. It makes him look like some deranged person who's drunk and maybe had too much fried chicken to eat. It makes Baekhyun's insides turn a little, just a tiny tumble. "Not even a week into being in Seoul and you've already fallen in love with it," he says. "I can't believe you, Byun Baekhyun. You used to hate the city."

"Hate's too strong a word." Maybe dislike, but that makes him sound so unsettled about the city. "I just didn't like it before. Held too many bad memories. Kept taking my loved ones, et cetera, et cetera." Baekhyun flails his arms about, and the next thing he knows Kyungsoo's blowing snow into his face. "What the hell? I'm asking a serious question! Don't fuck around with me!"

"What changed?" Kyungsoo asks. He opens his mouth to speak, shuts it closed, then catches his bottom lip between his teeth. "Really, what changed? What made you–"

"Feel better about the city?"

"Yeah, that." Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He isn't buying any of Baekhyun's shit, Baekhyun just knows it. "What is it?"

There are a number of factors: for starters, one of his father's dying wishes is for the brothers to inherit his flat in Gangnam and live there. 'For good,' the letter even said. It was underlined in two thick lines. Then he found out that his parents had been trying to patch things up here in Seoul, trying to settle the annulment case. They'd been talking amicably, and haven't had the insane urge to chuck something at each other in the past year. They might even be a bit in love with each other again. It sounded like something fresh off of a TV drama. And then there's his mother still being her same old self, except she's with another man now. That doesn't make her any less of the caring mother that she was, though. It just makes her a bit unavailable.

And then there's Kyungsoo, who will be here for at least two more weeks to take care of his college applications. In two weeks, he'll come back to Sokcho-si to get the rest of his things. Two weeks after that, they'll march down the aisle and walk up the stage to get their diplomas. Another two weeks, and they'll be entering a new phase in their life. Hello, university. Hello, 'real world'.

"The whole annulment chaos thing is over now so that's a big factor." He worries his bottom lip. "And you're here. Will be here for the next few years. And then Chanyeol and Jongdae will be moving here, too. Pretty soon, I'll be the only beach boy in the group and you guys won't visit me in Sokchi-si anymore so…" He scrunches his nose, trying to squeeze his brain for the right things to say. "I don't… want to forget. Be forgotten."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "People don't forget so easily."

"I know, but–" He scores lines with his nails on his nape, again and again until he feels the itch of the burn. "If umma could forget that she promised to be with appa forever – and they even said vows to each other, then what's stopping others from making the same mistake?"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and reaches out, slipping his fingers in the thick tuft of Baekhyun's hair. "Have a little faith in others. And yourself. You're not the type to forget things easily."

That's the thing: it's hard to be the one always remembering things, moments, people. August 23rd was the first time he shared an umbrella with Kyungsoo. The day before Chanyeol's 12th birthday, they roundhoused on the sand so badly that they ended up having to wear clown make up to Chanyeol's party to hide the scars on their faces. The day after that, at 10:57 a.m., Kyungsoo'd apologized for 'hitting you too hard' and Baekhyun'd said, 'and I'm sorry that you had to go down in one hit'. The year after, exactly one year after, they laughed about the whole thing and swore never to fight again.

Christmas eve this year, they fought. 11:50 p.m. the following week, eve of the New Year, they'd forgiven each other. Ten seconds ago, he felt Kyungsoo's thrumming pulse against his skin when Kyungsoo intertwined their hands. Kyungsoo's palms are sweating now and Baekhyun doesn't even know why.

"You still haven't answered my question," Baekhyun demands. "Will I or will I not be a good fit? Because if I'm not then I'll take the first bus back to Sokcho-si tomorrow."

Kyungsoo grins, his smile bright and bold and blinding. His gums are a pale shade of pink, but Baekhyun won't tell him that. Kyungsoo hates his gummy smile. Baekhyun hates the butterflies in his stomach that come with it. So he keeps his lips pressed thinly together, waiting and hoping in equal parts that Kyungsoo will say yes, yes, yes.

"Too early to tell," Kyungsoo says. His lips tug up, down, then up again. "But I think you'll enjoy a tour around the city. How does that sound?"

Like a wave suddenly getting swallowed halfway through crawling back to shore, Baekhyun wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he nods and throws Kyungsoo a light punch to the cheek, cool knuckles grazing Kyungsoo's warm skin. "Perfect."

≋ ≋ ≋

Seoul is a pretty busy city as far as busy cities go. Shops open at seven, and streets begin to get crowded at the same hour. Cars can be seen lined up in neat columns along streets at half past seven. They're already alighting the train to Euljiro sam-ga at eight. "It's like a noisy Sokcho-si at this hour," Baekhyun mumbles under his breath. He hugs the plackets of his jacket closer to himself and shivers. "A really, really noisy Sokcho-si."

"The only thing that's loud in the tiny city is the crashing waves," Kyungsoo comments. He rests a palm flat on the small of Baekhyun's back and guides him to the exit. When Baekhyun almost runs into someone rushing to the ticket reloading stand, Kyungsoo pulls Baekhyun close to his side by his jacket. "You'll have to keep your eyes open. You're bound to run into someone at least three times in a minute here."

"Yeah, I figured," Baekhyun mumbles. One more step, and the winter air is greeting them. It's just a gentle breeze for now, poking at their cheeks and rousing Baekhyun from his drowsiness. "Uh, okay, I'm lost. Where are we going again?"

"Cheonggyecheon. Nothing much to see at this hour but it's just a good fifteen-minute walk to the palace." Kyungsoo extends his hand in Baekhyun's direction, fingers splayed out. "Take my hand. You don't want to get lost here."

"I'll find my way–" Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him, and he rolls his eyes in response. He looks around for an audience for a while, then slides his fingers between Kyungsoo's own. They're both wearing gloves, but he can feel the heat of Kyungsoo's body permeating through the cloth somehow. "I look like some kid on a tourist trip or something."

"You are a kid," Kyungsoo offers. He gives Baekhyun's hand a gentle tug, and Baekhyun almost misses a step when he tries to catch up with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo hoists his backpack up and adjusts the straps. "Keep up. Treat this as our exercise. We're climbing up Namsan Tower later."

"Are you planning to kill me?"

"Nah. Just planning to make you fall in love with the city." Kyungsoo's grip on his hand tightens. He expects to feel a nasty burn in his shoulders – Kyungsoo walks too fast, after all – but none of that. Only then does notice the difference in Kyungsoo's steps, the tiny movements instead of his long strides. "You won't regret it."

I won't, Baekhyun muses. He takes a quick look at their intertwined hands, then stuffs them inside his jacket's pocket.

Destination number one is Cheonggyecheon stream. The water is frozen and winter paints it such a sullen mood, but he catches sight of the small stands near the stream. There's a bazaar in the area that's covered, and then people carrying different art materials running around the open area. Someone's painting a couple posing on a bench, or at least it looks as if they're posing. There's an old lady cooking small pancakes just beside the couple. And Baekhyun's itching to do something other than just watching everyone create things with their hands.

"You should've told me there were art thinggies going on here. I could've brought appa's materials or something–" Baekhyun grumbles. He looks to his side, meaning to talk to Kyungsoo, but instead he's greeted by a cool blast of wind and a blank space. "Soo? Hey, you told me you won't let me get lost–"

He turns around, grimacing at the sharp pain that shoots up his spine, but stops halfway through when he sees Kyungsoo pulling out a couple of things from his bag. A sketch pad, a box of something that looks like colored pencils. Are those watercolor and brushes? He can't tell. The blinding white all around them is making it hard for him to see clearly and Kyungsoo's adding insult to injury by grinning up at him.

Kyungsoo's eyes are twinkling. Dammit, Baekhyun thinks, it's the water around here that's supposed to be sparkling, not this.

"What–" Baekhyun gulps hard. He reaches out, grabbing Kyungsoo by the arm, and helps him get up. "What the hell are you doing?"

Kyungsoo darts out his tongue, testing the waters, then parts his lips to speak. "I saw the painting on the urn and thought that maybe you'd… want to draw. Or something." Kyungsoo looks away, just to his side, and then he's looking up again. The glint in his eyes has been replaced by something, a distorted image of Baekhyun. "The last time I saw you draw was in middle school. After graduation." He thrusts the materials in Baekhyun's direction, but doesn't let go until he's sure that Baekhyun has all of them in his arms already. "Your anniversary gift to your parents."

"You… remembered."

Kyungsoo shrugs. "I remember most things. All the important ones."

That's not even for your parents, he wants to say. Instead, he mumbles, "It's just a drawing."

"You've always loved drawing. Maybe not as much as singing, but it's always been there, somewhere." He takes one of the brushes and holds it by the ring near the bristles. He inches closer, then, and taps Baekhyun on the chest with the other end of the brush. "Right here."

That's got to be one of the cheesiest lines he's ever heard, but it tickles his insides somehow. Draws a giggle from inside him, lands a punch straight to his gut. It feels like taking a kick to the shins but enjoying it, strangely enough. "You cheeseball."

"That's what happens when I hang around you too much," Kyungsoo retorts. He draws the brush up, until he can poke Baekhyun's cheek with it. It doesn't hurt, though, not even with the force of Kyungsoo's hits. At most, it leaves a dull ache on his cheek. At the very least, it draws Baekhyun's attention to the wicked contours of Kyungsoo's mouth, the upward tug at the corners of his lips. Those three thin red lines on his bottom lip that are a testament to Kyungsoo's bad habit of biting his lips too much.

Baekhyun reaches out. He stops just a few inches shy of Kyungsoo's hand. He wants to run his thumb along the nasty cut on Kyungsoo's lips, lick them until Kyungsoo feels the sting and learns his lesson. He wants to–

He snatches the brush from Kyungsoo and narrows his eyes at him. "Go, then. Leave me here to die. I won't draw you or paint you or even create anything to remember you by."

Kyungsoo chuckles. He chokes somewhere towards the end, when the cool wind blows and urges him to suck in his bottom lip. He lets it go after a while, and when he does it's even redder than before. "I never told you to draw me."

"It's a given." Baekhyun means, sure, you didn't, but I want to draw you anyway. "Whatever. Just… sit there or something. Gimme a nice pose. Don't smile, it makes you look like you want to kill someone."

Kyungsoo lets out a loud exhale but does as he is told, anyway. He keeps his bag close by, and for a moment Baekhyun feels the need to rummage through Kyungsoo's things so he can prepare for all his tricks. Surprises fuck up with his mind, ruin his strategy. Surprises from Kyungsoo break down his defenses and leave him out in the open, ready to take a shot straight to the heart.

Baekhyun draws an abstract illustration of Kyungsoo just for kicks. Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him when he starts giggling, but he manages to dodge the kick Kyungsoo aims at his ass. One step away from Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo only gets more aggressive, moving closer to throw one punch after the other. One step closer and their bodies are colliding, limbs brushing against each other in a hissy fit. Kyungsoo's punches don't hurt, though. If anything, they make Baekhyun laugh all the more, make him less conscious of the space between them and more aware of the quickening pulse at the backs of his elbows, knees.

"Fix that shit," Kyungsoo says, squinting. A corner of his lips is tugged up, though, like he can't decide just yet how to feel about the drawing. Baekhyun's betting on 'amusement'. Then the tight-lipped smile falls open to reveal Kyungsoo's teeth, white and gleaming, and Baekhyun's pulse goes faster. Kyungsoo isn't even touching him anymore. "I love Picasso and all but if you make me look like a penguin again, I swear to God, Byun Baekhyun–"

"You swear to God what?" he asks. He can hear his voice shake, can feel the light tremble in his through. but his face feels fine. Just a bit warmer than it should be, but then winter fucks up with his body in the same way that Kyungsoo fucks up with the steady thumping in his chest.

Kyungsoo grabs a fistful of Baekhyun's coat and twists it in his hand with much difficulty. He's still trying to keep it together, though, despite the scrunching of his nose and the low growl that escapes his lips. "I swear to God, I'll leave you here and never come back for you," he whispers. He pulls Baekhyun closer, until their noses bump. Kyungsoo jerks away just a little, but keeps his hand there. "And you'll regret it."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. Kyungsoo is close, too close, but this is nothing new. It's not as if he hasn't woken up to Kyungsoo blowing hot air on his face as he snored in his sleep. It's not as if Kyungsoo's never pulled him close for a hug too tight when he landed first place in a school competition. It's not as if they've never been less than an inch, a breath away from each other. Proximity has never been an issue with them, but the way light catches on Kyungsoo's eyelashes right now is. It makes his chest feel so tight. It makes his throat go dry and all the words that were once threatening to fall from his lips scurry back down his throat.

"I'd like to see you try," Baekhyun replies. When Kyungsoo's body gives a light shake and he loosens his hold on Baekhyun's shirt, wrist, Baekhyun lets out a low exhale. "You'll never be able to resist me."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. His gaze lands on Baekhyun's own, then trails down the bridge of Baekhyun's nose. The bow of his lip, then a few spaces to the left until he settles his gaze on the mole just north of Baekhyun's upper lip.

"Fifteen minutes," Kyungsoo says. The last syllable comes out in a whisper, as if trying to catch his breath. Kyungsoo's chest is heaving. "We leave in fifteen minutes. The guided tour in the palace will start at 1 p.m. so we should grab something to eat before going there."

Baekhyun nods. He assumes his place behind his sketch pad again, sitting with his legs stretched forward this time. The sun is shining up high, but it isn't helping keeping him warm. If anything, it's making matters worse with the way the sunlight turns the angled planes of Kyungsoo's jaw into smooth curves, turns Kyungsoo's scarred and chapped lips into plump red ones. Highlights the lightest quirk of his mouth, a small, upward tug directed at Baekhyun and no one else.

≋ ≋ ≋

Lunch is at a restaurant a block away from Gyeongbukgung. They get there earlier than expected, but then they had to run the last few meters because the snow was coming down too hard on them. Baekhyun wouldn't stop complaining about the blowing winds. "And to think we're supposed to be used to this already!" he'd screamed halfway through the trip. They live up north, after all; it makes sense that they'd be accustomed to extremely cold weather. But Seoul brings about its own brand of cold, unveils a peculiar beauty in it as city lights hit the falling snow. It makes them look like balls of light slowly descending to the ground.

Baekhyun steps outside the restaurant, full from his meal, and sticks out his tongue. "What the hell are you doing?" he hears Kyungsoo ask, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he throws his head back and giggles when he feels the cool snow land on his tongue. "Are you out of your mind? You said you were freezing."

"I was. Now, I'm good. Better." He does it again, opening his mouth wide this time. Kyungsoo slaps him on the chest and makes him close his mouth. He has hand on Baekhyun's jaw and the other just brushing against Baekhyun's nose just a little. The material of his gloves almost makes Baekhyun sneeze. "Chill. I won't die by eating snow. Geez."

"I don't want to deal with you getting tummy aches during the trip," Kyungsoo grumbles. He widens his eyes at Baekhyun, cocks his eyebrows, purses his lips. He looks like a mom in one of those classic TV dramas. All that's missing is a hand on the waist and– Oh, there it is. "I'm serious. We have a long day ahead of us."

"Alright, alright. You killjoy." Baekhyun pinches Kyungsoo in his side. Kyungsoo's body tenses but relaxes quickly, and he takes that as an opportunity to slip an arm around Kyungsoo's waist. Kyungsoo looks, feels so small in his arms. It's almost as if he's holding a tiny stuffed toy in his arms and trying really hard not to cuddle it. "What are you even planning to do after the palace tour? You never told me what you had planned. You just… yanked me out of bed."

"Excuse me. I called you to make sure you were already up at six."

He growls at Kyungsoo. "Same banana. Look, you can't just drag my ass all over town. What if I has something planned tonight? What if I'm just doing this to humor you?"

Kyungsoo snorts but keeps walking, anyway. They cross the street like that, sort of entangled in each other's arms but not really. "You won't," Kyungsoo says with conviction once they reach the other side of the road. "And I asked you last night if you had plans and you said 'no'."

"Dammit. I hate your memory," Baekhyun grumbles. Kyungsoo laughs, then, just a short sliver of sound, then he's burying his face in Baekhyun's hair. "The next thing I know, you'll be digging up our childhood stuff and–"

"And?" Kyungsoo asks. His voice lilts, like a boy going through puberty. It's a rare sound, but when it does come it makes shivers run down Baekhyun's spine. It's a good shiver, though, the type that forces him to smile and maybe let out a breathy exhale. The type that leaves him with a weird upward tug on his cheeks so strong that he doesn't even try to fight it.

Kyungsoo has stepped out of his perimeter now, pinning him with a gaze. And he's wearing new glasses. Round-rimmed ones, unlike his old pair with the square-ish frame. It suits him better, so Baekhyun reaches over to push it up the bridge of his nose. "I am not going to the same school as you are. You'll just embarrass me in front of everyone," he mumbles. "And you'll laugh along when they tease me about it because you're evil–"

"And you're back to your old self."

"And you're the worst– What?"

"You're back," Kyungsoo repeats. The smile on his lips blooms into a grin, revealing pink gums and white teeth. Baekhyun can't decide whether this is an ugly or a pretty smile yet. So he stares a little longer, until his insides do a small somersault. It almost makes him gag on his own spit. "That took a while. A whole month? A new record for you." Kyungsoo chuckles. He inches closer, then, just one step forward, and they're within each other's breathing space again. It's a sick kind of push and pull that keeps Baekhyun's system from finally working the right way. To stop fucking up.

"You keep track of that? Geez, Soo–" Baekhyun means to snort, but what comes out instead is a chuckle through his nose. He sounds like a seal. Whatever it is, Kyungsoo seems to like it, smiling just a little and shaking his head. "You're like a walking encyclopedia of me or something."

"I can be a dictionary, too," Kyungsoo replies. He takes a couple of bills from his wallet and pays for the entrance, then hooks an arm around Baekhyun's own. "You have a weird language that's hard to understand."

"You make it look so easy."

"I have to, else I'd be an embarrassment of a friend." He gives Baekhyun's back three gentle taps, urging him to move forward. "And it wasn't Sooneung that screwed you over. That was your fascination with denying things."

"Allegations," Baekhyun corrects. "You know what? You can go with Jongdae. You two keep talking to me about this 'denial' thing and I don't get it–"

"Of course, you don't. That's because you're trying to project that you don't care so you can convince yourself about the same thing." In the line, Kyungsoo makes him turn around, guiding his shoulders with his hands. "It's not a crime to care."

"Yeah, sure, but caring too much–"

"Is normal. Human." Kyungsoo shakes his head. "You were worried about your father. That's normal – you're his kid. You don't want to lose your brother. That's pretty normal, too. If Seungsoo-hyung was moving to another country then I'd throw a fit and try to make him stay."

Baekhyun's eyebrows twitch. There's something warm welling up at the corners of his eyes. "You'll throw a fit?"

"Stop trying to change the subject, Byun," Kyungsoo mumbles. He jabs Baekhyun on the arm, but quickly massages it with gentle strokes. From where Baekhyun is, he catches the light pink dusting Kyungsoo's cheeks, the way Kyungsoo keeps his eyes on the ground, on his feet, everywhere but his face. His gaze descends to the gentle swell of Kyungsoo's lips, the tiny cracks on his skin, the rough surface that Baekhyun has long wanted to smoothen with his thumbs. "What I'm saying is that it's okay to feel sad and to worry, but stop thinking that everyone who leaves Sokcho-si will leave your life forever."

Baekhyun's breath hitches. Around them, the crowd starts to move. It's a mess of limbs bumping and pushing against each other, and Baekhyun tries to keep up by standing his ground. Over his shoulder, he hears someone say, 'whatever happened to falling in line?' He's asking the same thing. The purpose of the line is to keep things in order, keep all of them in check. The purpose of this tour is for Baekhyun to be reacquainted with his knowledge of Korean history. He's not here to hear a lecture from Kyungsoo or for Kyungsoo to slap him on the cheek with this harsh reality. He's not here to be pushed around to the point that of falling to the ground.

He teeters forward and trips on someone's foot. This is it, he thinks: public humiliation number one in a tourist attraction. In a palace, even, the last place he'd want to hold tragic memories in. He braces himself for the impact of the fall, arms pressed to his chest and palms facing the floor, but instead what greets him is a pair of hands grabbing him by his shoulders, pulling him away from the crowd, reeling him in.

"Gotcha," he hears Kyungsoo say. He hears the light chuckle that escapes from Kyungsoo's lips, hears the footsteps all around them. The crashing waves at the back of his mind. Suddenly, the memory hits him: one summer afternoon on the beach, him running after Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo running after no one in particular. He was so focused on tackling Kyungsoo to the ground that he forgot about the people around them, the wet sand, his weak knees. The next thing he knew, he was falling to the sand, face about to be buried in it. Then Kyungsoo grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him up, then made them fall back into the warm waters of the sea. Kyungsoo hadn't let go then, even if he, himself, was getting drenched in water. Even if he was shivering and he hated getting salt water in his eyes. He stayed there just between the sea and the shore, chest to Baekhyun's back, arms wound around Baekhyun.

And then the waves washed over them much like the realization that hits Baekhyun now, as they ride the new wave of people coming in for the tour. Here, at the start of his Gyeongbukgung palace tour, he realizes a few things:

One, Kyungsoo looks best with a scarf around his neck because it frames his face nicely. The contrast of black against the pink of his cheeks suits him well, like sugar and spice. Or pepper and sugar. Something of that sort.

Two, Kyungsoo looks weirdest when he's trying to wear a sincere smile on his lips. Baekhyun doesn't take it against him; when he was trying to perfect his cool, 'idol' face, he struggled a lot as well.

Three, the countdown from 'why are we friends' to 'why do you stick around when I'm the most problematic person ever' and eventually to 'why am I not kissing you' takes less than ten counts but also an entire lifetime.

"Snap out of it," Kyungsoo says. He snaps his fingers right in front of Baekhyun's face, and Baekhyun jerks back in response. "Save the dramatic realization for later. We have a tour to catch."

Baekhyun gulps hard and nods. He tilts his head back and takes a deep breath, trying to loosen the knot in his throat, but to no avail. It only swells, blooms inside him, like a tiny seed finally seeing the light. It's snatching all the oxygen in his system the same way that Kyungsoo makes his throat run dry when he says, "Hey. I can't lose you. Come back." So he swallows again, shields the budding seed inside him from the sun and wills the sunlight to fade. He holds onto Kyungsoo's jacket sleeve, though, and drops anchor right there so he won't lose his way.

≋ ≋ ≋

On the bus ride from Gyeongbukgung palace to Namsan tower, Baekhyun drafts a text to Jongdae, saying, 'shit man. shit.'

The first draft was more coherent, but not any less loaded with expletives. 'how the fuck did i go for so long without knowing fuck this fuck' can only take him so far, so he'd rewritten it. Trimmed it down to the bare bones of his emotions. Other options were, 'is it even fucking normal to like your best friend this way', 'wow lol i'm a goner HELP', and 'lol emotions what. if kyungsoo finds out he's gonna fucking kill me.' If Kyungsoo finds what out, though – that is the question. He can't decide just yet. Right now it's a toss up between Kyungsoo finding out that maybe he's the one Baekhyun got off to and not the girl in the bad porno they watched years ago, and Kyungsoo finding out that all those gestures, grand or otherwise, meant more than just a touch. Worse, it might be Kyungsoo finding out that the only thing, person who has kept Baekhyun anchored safely to the sea floor was none other than himself.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. He shifts in his seat and casts a glance at the sleeping lump beside him. Kyungsoo's slumped against him, head rested on his shoulder. He's drooling and he's chewing on air. There's a bit of movement behind his eyes, in the corners of his mouth. It's almost as if he's dreaming.

Lucky you, Baekhyun wants to say. The bus runs along a hump, and Baekhyun holds Kyungsoo's head down to his shoulder so that Kyungsoo won't jerk awake. Kyungsoo gives a faint giggle, like the prospect of being jolted back to reality is so funny. It isn't. Baekhyun's facing his reality right now and it hasn't stopped slapping him in the face just yet.

He glances at his phone one more time, then exits the message application. He stuffs it inside his pocket, along with all the other thoughts invading his mind right now. He blinks a few times, focusing on the road ahead, the signage that says, 'Namsan tower in 2 km.'

"Get up, you log," he mumbles. He buries his nose in Kyungsoo's hair, takes a whiff. Wake up, says a voice in his mind, and he pulls away in an instant. "Hey, c'mon, wake up. We're almost there."

"Oh shit," is the first thing that Kyungsoo says when he rouses. The second, when he sees the patch of drool on Baekhyun's jacket, "Shit, I'm gross. Sorry."

They spend the fifteen-minute walk from the bus station to Plaza P1 of Namsan tower shaking sleep and lethargy out of their system. Baekhyun tries to keep his eyes wide open throughout the walk, while Kyungsoo keeps cracking his knuckles, flexing his fingers. At one point, he might have even been doing thumb wrestling with himself just to wake himself up.

"You're so bored out of your wits," Baekhyun says, speech stifled by the yawn that pries his lips open. He sticks his hand out in Kyungsoo's direction. "Here, use my thumb. Kids like you shouldn't be left playing alone."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Playing with you is worse than playing with myself. No challenge at all." He takes Baekhyun's hand, anyway, hooks his bent fingers onto Baekhyun's own and begins to finger-wrestle with him. There's a bit of a struggle, their gloves too thick for a heated finger wrestling match, but they make it work, anyway. Kyungsoo wins the first two rounds by a landslide, wins the third by catching Baekhyun off-guard. "Never let your guard down," he mutters, eyes trained on their fingers. "But make sure you're not bumping into anyone while doing this."

"I can't multi-task. Either I walk or I play with you. And I don't think I have a choice right now." He grumbles, but the grin on his lips gives him away. He trips on a rock, then, almost falling on his knees, but Kyungsoo manages to keep him on his feet. Then Kyungsoo presses down on Baekhyun's thumb with his own, cackling in victory. Kyungsoo's a fair battler on most days, but catch him on a day when he feels particularly devlish and he'll capitalize on Baekhyun's weaknesses to achieve a landslide victory.

"Hey, that's unfair! I'm injured! Whatever happened to fair play?" Baekhyun slaps Kyungsoo on the arm with his free hand but only succeeds in losing the next round. "You are ruthless. Heartless!"

Kyungsoo stops for a second, looking up. Then he's jabbing Baekhyun in the gut with two fingers, none of which are the thumb he'd used earlier to defeat Baekhyun.

By the time they get to the ticketing booth, they're already spent from the hike, chests heaving. Baekhyun has to pause every so often in his narration of one fine Seoraksan hike just to catch his breath. "Remember that time when Jongdae lost balance and–" Baekhyun chokes on his own spit, and Kyungsoo automatically pounds at Baekhyun's back with his balled fist. It's supposed to be an act of kindness, but right now Baekhyun can't tell if this is punishment for winning a round of finger wrestling. Or a reward, because after that Kyungsoo presses the heel of his palm down on Baekhyun's back and rubs slow circles on it. "And he landed on his ass so hard that he tore up a little–"

"Point being?"

"Point being," Baekhyun continues, cocking an eyebrow at Kyungsoo. "He won't be able to survive this hike if a fall like that can make him cry."

Kyungsoo snorts. "And Chanyeol won't, either, because his legs are too long."

Baekhyun cackles. "Always blame the legs."

"Of course," Kyungsoo says, humming, then hands Baekhyun his ticket. Baekhyun examines it for a moment, running his thumb along the illustration of the tower on the paper. "Ready?"

He looks up, the entire stretch of the tower looking as if it's about to fall on him. Seoraksan is much more intimidating than this, but somehow it makes him feel smaller than before. Back when he was a kid, he'd always be a bit apprehensive to go hiking or even come close to the mountain. Adulthood has done his courage well, but that doesn't mean the fear has disappeared completely. There's still a bit of it inside him, like a small, undetectable speck of sand that scratches his skin and leaves him with a very sore spot. Or a playful wave that soon calls for reinforcements so it could wash over him. Something of that sort. He clutches at his shirt, his jacket, his sleeve, until he feels Kyungsoo wrap a hand around his wrist.

"It won't eat you. Alive." Kyungsoo rubs the tip of his nose. "If it makes you feel better, the view at the top is breath-taking."

Baekhyun chuckles. His voice cracks somewhere along the way. He almost doesn't sound like himself, except he does. There's still the same old kid who'd grown up in Sokcho-si in the way he drawls his syllables, in the way he tilts chin up and surveys the place like a fisherman studying the surface of water. "I figured. How many times have you been here?"

"Ten, if you count each time I studied the place as a visit," Kyungsoo replies. He loosens his hold on Baekhyun and slides his hand down, until his palm is pressed to the back of Baekhyun's hand. "If not, well– It's my first time here."

Baekhyun cocks both eyebrows, a sliver of sound escaping his lips at the same time that he takes a deep breath. "Your first time?" he asks. He means, it's your first time here in Namsan Tower and you're wasting it with me?

"I've only been here for two weeks," Kyungsoo reasons. "Besides, hyung and I have been busy and there isn't anyone to go with."

Baekhyun feels his eyebrows twitch. A sick, traitorous cold wraps around his neck and makes his throat constrict, go dry. He's pretty sure he has at least ten, twenty more words to say, but all those get drowned by the cool tingle of Kyungsoo's fingers at hem of his gloves. Kyungsoo's powers of persuasion are most effective on his brother so really, if he wanted to visit Namsan Tower at the earliest possible time, he would've. But instead, here he is – fingers wrapped around Baekhyun's wrist, eyes fixed on Baekhyun's own.

Baekhyun tries to smile. Tries to chuckle, because it's proven to be the best reply whenever words escape him. "You missed me, didn't you? Admit it: you missed me!" Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows for a second, a flash of something unreadable surfacing on his features. One blink and then it's gone, replaced instead with a small smile, an indiscernible crinkle of the corners of his eyes.

"Are we going up the tower or what?"

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, shakes his head. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning and doesn't shuck off Kyungsoo's firm grip on his wrist. Kyungsoo gives his hand a lazy tug. It can mean 'don't flatter yourself' or 'come on, walk faster'. He's still deciding on which interpretation to go with. Either way, he keeps the image of Kyungsoo's tiny grin at the back of his mind and wraps it around him like a life jacket. If he drifts too far from shore, gets carried away by the waves, he'll still stay afloat. And he'll see Kyungsoo in the distance and feel the pull of the anchor chained to his ankle, a guiding force to lead him home.

≋ ≋ ≋

It's close to sunset when they reach the peak. Night slowly settles in, a thick blanket of darkness washing over the orange sky. If the view at the peak is already spectacular just before sundown, the evening makes it look more beautiful. Breath-taking, even. In the shadows of the night, the figures of people crowding the streets turn into a spectacle of lights – car lights, lights from LED boards, lampposts. Tiny sparks of light in Kyungsoo's eyes when he turns to Baekhyun and says, "Wow."

"Better in real life than in pictures?" Baekhyun asks. He shifts in his position, leaning away from the railing. The temperature where they are is almost close to that of Sokcho-si's in winter. It almost feels like home. "Everything's so tiny from up here, it's as if–"

"We're on top of the world," Kyungsoo continues, breathless. The lighting is dim where they are, but he can still make out the faint upward tug at a corner of Kyungsoo's lips. Kyungsoo raises his hand, motioning to point at something in front of them. "That's Gangnam over there, beyond the Han. And that part–"

"Is the park we went to a few days back." Baekhyun cranes his neck, trying to get a better view of Jamsil Road Bridge from where he is. The details are too small, almost indiscernible, but there's no mistaking the clump of lights in the park. "It's nice there. Nice and cozy."

"Freezing cold," Kyungsoo adds, mumbling. From a corner of Baekhyun's eye, he spots Kyungsoo zipping his jacket all the way up. Kyungsoo's tolerance for the cold weather has always been shit without the help of alcohol. It's hilarious. "Not the best view of the river, either."

"So where's the best view?"

"Gangnam area. Or maybe Itaewon. There's a bar there that offers the perfect view of the Han, but the cover fee is pretty steep so–" Kyungsoo stops, abrupt and sudden, and narrows his eyes at Baekhyun. Baekhyun doesn't back down, though, keeps the huge grin on his lips right there and fixes Kyungsoo a gaze. "According to research, at least. I told you, I haven't gotten the chance to go around–"

"You've been too lazy to go around," Baekhyun amends. "That's how you've always been. If no one gets your lazy ass out of bed to have fun outside, you'll never go out to see the sun."

Kyungsoo frowns. Growls, then tears his gaze from Baekhyun's own. He's already dropped his hand to his side, fingers balling into a loose fist. Baekhyun stares a while longer, then slowly unwraps the scarf around his neck. "C'mon, wear this. You look as if you're going to pass out from the cold."

"Says the guy who gets cold during spring," Kyungsoo teases.

"Says the guy who says aircon temperature's unbearable," Baekhyun retorts. He holds Kyungsoo's gaze for a while, seeking approval, assessing, and inches even closer when Kyungsoo doesn't budge. There's a good half foot between them now. That's less than ten seconds of distance between them if he ever decides to lean forward, one deep breath if he decides to do something. It's the perfect scenario – they're at one of the peaks of Seoul and there's a nice view of the city life below. The wind isn't howling, but it tousles Kyungsoo's hair a bit, fluffs his hair and softens the hard angles of his jaw. And it's dark all around them. Kyungsoo won't see Baekhyun's trembling lips, or the quick rise and fall of his chest in tandem with his heaves. And maybe he won't see Kyungsoo grimace if he ends up doing something he'll regret forever.

Baekhyun throws an arm over Kyungsoo's head and pulls the scarf down until it's found a snug fit on Kyungsoo's shoulders. He drops his hands to his sides, but scrambles for purchase on Kyungsoo's jacket. C'mon, he tells himself, it shouldn't be that hard. All he has to do is tell Kyungsoo that hey, it turns out he's more special than Baekhyun thought. That maybe he's always been a little in love with Kyungsoo because how could he not be? It's hard to grow up with a person who knows you inside and out, who knows you more than you know yourself, who knows exactly when to lift you up and when to pull you back down to the ground and not fall in love with him.

And it's hard to take the punch of a realization straight to the gut and pretend that the impact doesn't sting the slightest bit.

"Hey, you alright?" Kyungsoo yanks him by the wrist, then tilts his head up with a finger on his chin. "Winter froze your brain again?"

"Shut up," Baekhyun mumbles. He makes quick work of the scarf on Kyungsoo's shoulders, creating a messy loop, and digs his hands in his pockets once he's done. "You have to stay warm. I can't lose my Seoul tour guide to the cold weather."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He says nothing else, just keeps his eyes fixed on the scenery in front of them. The messy loop stays there, a complete contrast to Kyungsoo's neat, all-black outfit. Payback, Baekhyun thinks as he fishes for his phone from his pocket. This is payback for Kyungsoo messing with his mind.

On the bus ride to Gangnam, Kyungsoo takes the window seat and dozes off halfway through. He almost thunks his head into the seat in front, so Baekhyun sneaks an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder, tilts his head to the side. With his free hand, he fishes for his phone from his pocket and pulls up the message he'd drafted earlier. It's terribly unfinished, cut off in all the wrong parts. Version five of the message and he still can't get the words right.

Ten minutes after, he ends up with the best possible message he could send. so how long have u guys known abt this huh, he types, and hits send even before he can think of erasing it again.

ever since ;), Jongdae replies. Baekhyun rests his head on the seat in front of him and laughs to himself. Kyungsoo's fitful snores soar above the noise of his dry, stifled laughter.

≋ ≋ ≋

It's close to eleven in the evening when Kyungsoo starts packing up. "Hyung called, said he was sick," he reasons out as fishes for one clump of tissue after another from his bag. Baekhyun helps him, too, but only because Kyungsoo said earlier that he'll 'kill whoever dumped all the tissue in his bag'. In Baekhyun's defense, he found it a waste to just leave them lying around on the table in the restaurant they ate at for dinner. And the print on the table napkins was cute. "Now he's asking me to make juk because 'nobody cooks it quite like I do'."

"Aww, that's sweet," Baekbeom croons.

"It's annoying," Kyungsoo continues. "And he's probably just craving juk. He doesn't get sick. He's the bacteria."

Baekhyun snorts. He opens his mouth to say something in agreement, but Baekbeom slaps him on the arm and steals his airtime, instead. "In behalf of your brother, I'm affronted."

"In behalf of my brother, I'd like to thank you," is Kyungsoo's reply. He furrows his eyebrows as he digs deeper into the bag, then lets out a loud exhale. "Whatever. There's too many of these. If you're trying to rub off your hoarder tendencies on me then you're failing at it, Baekhyun."

"Who, me?"

Baekbeom straightens up, gripping his knees before standing up straight. "Last I checked, my name's still Baekbeom." To Kyungsoo, he says, "Tell your brother I said hi. And that he sucks for being the first person to get sick in the cold weather."

Kyungsoo chuckles, then chucks some balled up tissue paper in Baekhyun's direction. "Will do, hyung," he says in response, then makes his way to Baekhyun to pick up his trash.

Kyungsoo doesn't leave until ten minutes after, though, after discussing his plans for tomorrow. He'll be at the Byun residence by three in the afternoon, but he'll call at two to make sure Baekhyun hasn't forgotten their little Hongdae adventure. "And we'll have to be on the road by four. You don't want to hop on the train during rush hour," he even says before finally stepping outside the house. He isn't too far, though, still only a few good inches away. "Then we can grab dinner before watching the shows. The street food is great. The best the city has to offer."

Kyungsoo sniffs for a while, and it finally becomes visible – the stripe of red along the column of his neck, the dark circles under his eyes. The dry skin on his bottom lip that looks nothing like the aftermath of being bitten too much. This is Seoul's winter beating down on him, albeit not being as cold as that of Sokcho-si's. This is Kyungsoo fighting Seoul's allure, its tide, the strong current. This is Do Kyungsoo, his friend of close to two decades, whose faint humming he can close his eyes to and say, "Yeah, I know where I am. I know I'm home."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and capitalizes on this moment. "Based on research, yeah?"

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him. His hands are balled into fists, but he maintains the distance between them. "Asshole," he mumbles. The ghost of a smile on his lips says otherwise, though. And then Kyungsoo's walking away, his retreating figure vanishing around the corner.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It's a message from Jongdae, one that says, i heard ur going to hongdae tmr. u do remember that he's always wanted 2 see a street show there, right? It takes a while for the memories to resurface – one group study session in Jongdae's room where Jongdae and Chanyeol had already fallen asleep, faces buried in their books. Kyungsoo's mind too awake to slow down with thinking, but the rest of his body not willing to give up. Baekhyun crossing off three chapters' worth of readings instead of the recommended two. The two of them slumped against the foot of Jongdae's bed with Kyungsoo mumbling, "Maybe we could do a street show in Hongdae someday. The four of us, I mean. Who knows, we might even get recruited."

yeah i did, he replies. He takes a deep breath, staring at his phone for a few good seconds before it registers that he hasn't sent the message yet. except uknow it's just the 2 of us bc u n yeol are SO FAR AWAY.

says the guy who's in seoul okok, Jongdae says in response. Baekhyun waits for the catch, the punch line, but it never comes. Instead, Jongdae asks, so what r ur plans? :D :D :D

Off the top of his mind, he can list five: he wants to enjoy Hongdae, get stuffed to the brim, go to the Hello Kitty cafe because he's seen pictures of it and boy, does the shop look great. He wants to see the famous playground, too, where Epik High used to hold shows. Maybe grab a couple of drinks with people who love music just as much as he does. Maybe even get those drinks for free. He's not quite sure how the Seoul crowd feels about twenty-year-olds drinking off of a soju bottle in the streets. In Sokcho-si, as long as you don't throw up and leave bottles on the beach, it's fine. Baekhyun can't even count the number of times he's been given a bottle of beer for giving a good performance and been forced to drink it bottoms up.

At the bottom of the list, crossed off so many times that he can't even count: perform in front of the Hongdae crowd. He's only ever heard of street performances from Kyungsoo but, even with Kyungsoo's steady tone, the concept of performing in front of a new set of people is so exciting. Thrilling. It makes his insides turn and makes him want to throw up, but he'll get back up on stage anyway. There's a first time for everything, after all. Surely, nothing can top his jitters for the first time he ever performed with Bro Code for the opening of the renovated Daepo market.

If he ever screws up, he can always drag Kyungsoo into his mess and force Kyungsoo to sing with him. It shouldn't too hard. They've been singing alongside each other for years now that he can make himself hear Kyungsoo's voice in his ears at will. They've known each other long enough that he knows how to work around Kyungsoo's flat notes, those times when he can't hear himself. He knows Kyungsoo well enough that every song he sings, he knows Kyungsoo can sing just as well with him.

If music ever fades out into silence and the crowd laughs at him silly, Kyungsoo will always be there to cheer him on albeit gingerly. And that's all he needs to grab the microphone again, pick up from where he's left off.

lots of things, he replies after a while, once he's already in bed. Kyungsoo had texted earlier that he's finally home, would you believe that people are still out in the streets at this hour? jesus– He doesn't give Jongdae a detailed list anymore, just keeps those five items at the back of his mind as he closes his eyes. The image of himself standing in front of a crowd is clear in his mind. He can almost see, feel the bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. He can feel the warmth of the spotlight on the makeshift stage, on this rookie singer making his debut in a street performance in Hongdae. Dim lighting on the crowd in front of him. Bright eyes looking up at him as if coaxing him to go, go, just keep singing. A familiar lurching sensation at the pit of his stomach slowly crawling up his throat for a clumsy enunciation.

Silence, and then the beating of a drum to a familiar song he remembers himself writing. He grips his phone tight in his hand and counts to three before singing out loud, letting the words spill from his lips. He falls asleep like that, phone pressed to his chest and a reply to Jongdae unsent. When he wakes up, it's to the sound of his phone buzzing near his collarbones and Kyungsoo's name flashing on the screen at nine in the morning.

He laughs to himself and presses his phone close to his sticky cheek. The song picks up from whenever he's left off as he whispers, "Hey. Good morning."

≋ ≋ ≋

"So you're saying you'd have stayed in bed until ten if I didn't tell you I'll come over for lunch?"

Baekhyun risks a glance over his shoulder, then turns back to facing the stove. The stew hasn't boiled yet, but there are a couple of bubbles on the surface big enough to create a tiny ripple when they pop. Three more minutes until the water hits boiling point and he can add in some kimchi to the stew. Two more minutes after that until Kyungsoo bugs him again because Kyungsoo isn't so fond of repeating himself in the span of five minutes.

He peeks over his shoulder again, then lets out a loud exhale. "I was tired, okay. Drained. Poofed. We walked – what – a million kilometers yesterday? The entire Seoul? Dude, if your legs didn't feel like giving up halfway through the trip, I swear to God–"

"You forgot the onion leaks," Kyungsoo mentions. He runs his hands through tap water really quick, then grabs a handful of the leaks Baekhyun had chopped earlier. Adds a bit of salt and pepper, too, before urging Baekhyun to pour in the kimchi because it's already been three minutes since the first few bubbles popped up. "And they did, but I still managed to get up at seven to cook for hyung."

Baekhyun groans. He steps away from the stove when the boiling intensifies. "But you're a monster."

"Thanks," Kyungsoo replies, then narrows his eyes at Baekhyun. "And your stew tastes so bland. Add more salt. And you'll need another bottle of kimchi is you're really planning to–" His voice trails off when Baekhyun turns around, their eyes meeting in a steady line now. Kyungsoo's lips tremble just a little, and Baekhyun follows Kyungsoo's gaze when Kyungsoo looks down, past the waistband of his pants and down to the fingers he's drumming in his side. This part's familiar – if Baekhyun sticks around long enough, he'll see Kyungsoo groan in distress and take over cooking duties. If he leaves now, Kyungsoo will do the same but not without grumbling about it over lunch. If he stands his ground and doesn't let Kyungsoo snatch the spoon away from him, Kyungsoo will stay in the kitchen. Kyungsoo will supply him with bits and pieces of cooking tips the entire time. It's a win-win situation. But there's something that disrupts the balance a little, a tiny upward curl of the lip on the corners of Kyungsoo's mouth.

Kyungsoo takes a step forward and reaches out. His hand moves north, past Baekhyun's shoulders and chin, until his thumbs meet the corners of Baekhyun's lips. "I can't believe you ate some of the kimchi you were supposed to cook," he says, a bit breathless. Baekhyun leans a bit forward to chase some of that sound, but Kyungsoo's lips are pressed in a line so thin. Then Kyungsoo traces the swell of Baekhyun's bottom lip with his thumb, traces a line up to his cheek until Baekhyun feels a brush of something cold on his skin. It's innocent enough a gesture that Baekhyun doesn't pay much attention to it until Kyungsoo sucks in his thumb, until Kyungsoo's lips come off his finger with a light jiggle that makes Baekhyun's insides turn.

Baekhyun's pretty sure he's seen this in one of Jongdae's awful pornos. It looks strangely nice on Kyungsoo, though, whose cheeks are a light shade of pink.

There's a thick blanket of silence for a while, broken only by the sound of bubbles popping. And then Kyungsoo's rolling his eyes, snatching the spoon from Baekhyun and waving it in front of him like a prize. "Apologize to your brother for the delay. I'll fix your awful stew," Kyungsoo mumbles, but the smile on his lips is bright, gleaming. When Kyungsoo turns around, shifting his attention to the stew, the smile disappears behind the thick smoke from the food. "The fire's set too high. You're gonna overcook the kimchi like this."

I wouldn't have if you didn't get in the way, Baekhyun wants to say. He saves that argument for another day and, instead, pokes his head into the living room. "Hyung, Kyungsoo says sorry that you'll have to starve because my jjigae's so good that he finished it all in one gulp!" he cries out, and he ducks just in time to avoid the metal spoon Kyungsoo throws at him.

In a little under an hour, Kyungsoo manages to salvage what would've been a poor fusion of gamja ongsimi and kimchi jjigae. Another hour after, and Baekhyun's back in winter clothes instead of threadbare house clothes. They leave just before four, a desperate attempt to make Baekbeom stop telling them about that one time he faked sick because he'd gotten constipated after drinking too much and, "As a reminder, don't you ever trying getting really frisky with someone when you're constipated because–"

"This is sick," Baekhyun whispers under his breath once he catches sight of Hongdae in the light of the day. He'd been talking to Kyungsoo earlier about Baekbeom being the grossest person ever and he's pretty sure he was in the middle of a sentence before losing all of his words to the beauty of the scene before him. Hongdae isn't… as peaceful as he'd like it to be, but the muted chaos looks good somehow. Roads lined with snow, food and shopping stalls left and right. Christmas lights everywhere, the shops carrying all sorts of combinations of Christmas colors. It almost feels like one of those Friday markets in Sokcho-si or that big bazaar in Gangneung-si. Granted, the vendors were selling dried fish instead of possible Christmas gifts half the time, but what is Gangwon-do without all the dried seafood products that come in all shapes and sizes?

Kyungsoo snorts. "Too many people, I know." He rubs the tip of his nose. "There were more last week. Seungsoo-hyung managed to make it to the to the other side without getting injured or anything. I don't how he does it."

"He smiles at people and doesn't glare at them every chance– Ow!" Baekhyun tries to wiggle his arm free of Kyungsoo's grasp, but Kyungsoo's grip it too tight. Unforgiving. And warm. The touch wavers when Kyungsoo bumps into someone and whispers an apology under his breath. "See? Your grumpy face attracts accident-prone people. Your frown is, like, a beacon of light shining upon clumsy guys who don't know how to walk on two feet."

"Well, that makes sense. I've been stuck with your for years."

"Two decades," Baekhyun corrects. He snakes an arm around Kyungsoo's waist and pulls him close to his chest when two bikes cross in front of them. "Wow. You're luck's rubbing off on me. They almost ran into my toes there."

It takes more than a second to feel Kyungsoo's body go rigid against his, and another to realize why it has. His chin is digging into Kyungsoo's shoulder and his lips are almost pressed to Kyungsoo's cheek. It isn't out of the ordinary, not for them, but when you're out in the open in a place you don't have memorized like the back of your hand, it's difficult to sink into a touch more than familiar and just a little less like your own. Shove Kyungsoo's face into Baekhyun's chest on Sokcho-si's beach and he won't even think twice about blowing raspberries on Baekhyun's skin. Have him pressed too close – back to chest, pulse to pulse – against Baekhyun here in Hongdae's packed streets and Kyungsoo turns into stone faster than he can take a breath.

So Baekhyun does him a favor and pulls away soon after. He catches the tiny jerk of Kyungsoo's body, though, before dropping his hands to his side.

"You alright?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper. Kyungsoo only hums in response. He registers that as a yes.

"You want to go to the Hello Kitty cafe, right?" Kyungsoo asks after a while. They're deep into Hongdae now, the main street no longer in sight even if Baekhyun cranes his neck. He nods a little in response, and then Kyungsoo's pulling him forward by the wrist, grip tight. "Research says teenagers flock the cafe around this time. We have to be quick or else we won't get any seats," Kyungsoo explains as they make their way through Hongdae's crowded streets, passing colorful shops and signages blinking at them. "And I know you hate standing for too long in thick crowds."

"You sure you're not talking about yourself?" Baekhyun asks, grinning. Kyungsoo answers by pinching Baekhyun in his stomach, pinches him even harder when he says, "Remember the thing you said about Seungsoo-hyung being the virus? It's actually you and you're rubbing off on me. Eww."

Kyungsoo gives him a long look, then rolls his eyes in response. He keeps his grip on Baekhyun's wrist tight, but no longer unforgiving. They pass a huge Dunkin' Donuts branch after that, and then a shop that sells jackets. A few more steps forward and Baekhyun spots a few shoe shops and make-up stores. Hongdae's a mixbag of tricks, and he can't say he doesn't like it. In fact, he might even be falling in love with Hongdae's surprises.

"This place is like... two shopping centers in one," Baekhyun comments.

"Three," Kyungsoo corrects. He gives Baekhyun a light nudge, then cocks his head in a direction of a place whose signage probably needs to be changed. "This is one of hyung's favorite bars. He's seen a couple of gigs here, all RnB. He says we might want to check it out sometime if we... want to 'keep doing our Bro Code thing'."

Baekhyun squints his eyes, trying to get a better picture of the establishment in front of him. Only the LCD with the logo looks like it's seen better days, but the rest of the facade looks good. Cozy, even, with all the wooden planks going on in the terrace-looking thing in front. There's a flight of stairs leading south, probably to the main area of the bar. Baekhyun moves closer, then, and catches sight of some posters. There one closest to him is a poster of BoA. Beside it are a couple of DBSK posters, and then Super Junior ones. A few of SHINee near the main door, and then a handful of Big Band and Epik High's.

He takes a deep breath, then looks over his shoulder. "They're all... signed," he whispers. Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows for a moment, and then he's smiling one of those gummy smiles of his that makes him look like some delirious kid. It's ugly. It's ugly and cute. "You mean to say, Seungsoo-hyung has met some of these big stars here while clubbing and stuff? He knows KangTa?"

Kyungsoo chuckles. He reaches out and threads his fingers through Baekhyun's hair before giving the tuft a pat. "BoA, yes. KangTa... Well, he hasn't mentioned talking to KangTa or anything."

"How about Tablo? Mithra?" Baekhyun gulps hard, trying to swallow the rest of his incoherence, but to hell with that. Kyungsoo will understand his unintelligible babbling. Chanyeol's yodeling is ten times worse than this and Kyungsoo can interpret that with 90% accuracy. "GD? Kim Dongryul?"

"Yes, yes, and no," Kyungsoo replies. He taps his finger on his nose for a while. "I think he met Kim Dongryul before? Pretty sure he can hook us up with a couple of important people if we ever... decide to have a gig here or–"

A gig here. Baekhyun takes a deep breath and swallows hard, trying to push down the huge, solid thing that has lodged itself in his throat, but to no avail. It's there, present and scratching at the walls of his throat, like the reality that Seoul is showing him at the moment – the future is here, right where he's standing. If he wants to leave a mark, create a name for himself and the Bro Code in the music industry, Seoul is the place to be. Sure, he has a huge following back in Sokcho-si, but who even goes there for big concerts? Who gets scouted along the beach? Who the hell reaches shore after a great dive and bumps into a talent scout, then gets presented with an opportunity like this?

Kyungsoo snakes an arm around his shoulder and gives his arm a light squeeze. "It's just an option," he says, more like a reminder than a statement. "It's always nice to know someone who can help you out, right?"

Baekhyun looks around the place, then at Kyungsoo. He can see himself reflected in Kyungsoo's eyes. He looks like a lost kid, and he may very well be – this is Seoul. It may be like home with everything that it has to offer, but the blowing wind will never quite sound like the crashing waves. Seoul is Seoul and Sokcho-si is Sokcho-si. They are two different places, each with different yet fascinating things that breathe life into them. It just so happens that Kyungsoo's here right now. If Kyungsoo were elsewhere – say, Gyeonggi-do or Deungdae-do – then Baekhyun would probably be just as convinced that those other places hold a bit of Sokcho-si in them, be it in the land or the air or the sea.

"Yeah, that's right," Baekhyun replies after a while. He holds Kyungsoo's gaze a little longer, until he spots a signage just beyond Kyungsoo's shoulders that says 'Hello Kitty cafe, this way'.

Slowly, Kyungsoo turns around and follows Baekhyun's gaze. "I can't believe you really want to go there," is all that he says, doesn't prod or bring up the subject. If he ever tries to broach the topic, he only drops his grip on Baekhyun's hand just a bit south, with the pads of his fingers just grazing the base of Baekhyun's knuckles.

≋ ≋ ≋

Hello Kitty cafe is indeed already packed when they arrive. The good thing about it is that there's still enough room to breathe inside and that they got free cookies for having to wait too long for their order. The bad thing about it is that Baekhyun's soles are already too sore from all the walking and standing they'd done. Kyungsoo doesn't seem to be so bothered. He's been shifting his weight from one foot to another in increasing intervals for the past three minutes, though. That, and he can't seem to take a sip of his coffee without grimacing a little.

"It's not bad," Baekhyun comments before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. At the back of his mind, he's silently grateful that he didn't order coffee today. "Y'know, there's nothing wrong with waiting for the drink to get even colder. If it's quality coffee then the temperature shouldn't–"

Kyungsoo shifts in his position, then gives in to the allure of sitting on the floor. A few feet away, a group of young girls giggle at Kyungsoo. He greets them with a soft smile, eyes turning into half-moon crescents.

Baekhyun snorts. Kyungsoo never gives him that smile. They've been friends for close to two decades and all he's gotten from Kyungsoo is his ugly smile that makes him look more constipated than happy. And conflicted, but then Kyungsoo has always been a push and pull of emotions. The slightest twitch of the corners of his lips means he's amused but hasn't decided yet if he's sold on the idea of something meeting his standards. The vacant expression means he's thinking about both everything and nothing, and maybe a bit of something. The big grin means he finds everything so fucking funny and that he hates himself for being so easy to please. And Kyungsoo's hand on the small of Baekhyun's back means 'I'm here for you, buddy, but if I ever find out that you're to blame for this fuck up then I'll leave you in a corner to suffer. Then pick you up afterwards so I can feed you good food.'

"Relax. They're not after your hot chocolate. Nobody's gonna take it away from you," Kyungsoo tells Baekhyun. He gives the space beside him a gentle pat, then nods in his direction. "But I will take your bagel if you don't like it anymore."

"Stay away from my bagels," Baekhyun says, but the first thing he grabs is a handful of brown sugar in tiny sachets. He tosses that to the side and sits on his legs, instead. "Okay, I'm sitting with you now. Happy?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. It could mean 'yeah, I am' or 'yes, but I could be happier'. He's still trying to work out the kinks. Baekhyun settles with the latter, because soon Kyungsoo's throwing his cup into the trash can and telling Baekhyun to get up.

"The coffee's passable," Kyungsoo says in confidence later, when they're well outside the perimeter of Hello Kitty cafe. The sun hasn't set yet, but the skies are already dull and dim. It makes navigating the streets a bit of a chore. Their steps pick up pace soon after, though, when the lamp posts light up and the crowd thins a little. Nearing six in the evening and Hongdae's crowd is finally retreating to restaurants, looking for a place to eat at instead of looking for something interesting to do on a holiday weekday.

The Christmas cheer hits Hongdae at exactly six in the evening. The Christmas lights are turned on, and there's some Christmas music in the pipeline radio somewhere. Or maybe all the shops they pass in Hongdae happen to be tuned to the same station. It makes the place warmer, makes the cold weather a bit more bearable even with the loss of ten or more bodies around them. It makes Kyungsoo's stern expression thaw out into something more relaxed, his cheeks no longer hollowed out.

Baekhyun finds himself humming one of the tunes, a song called 'Christmas in Our Hearts.' He remembers Chanyeol making all of them memorize the song so they can perform it in a holiday music festival that they weren't even sure if they were invited to. Only the afternoon of the day itself were they informed that hey, you guys are performing in the holiday festival. Christmas songs should be fairly easy to practice, right? Kyungsoo rolled his eyes in response then, but did his best to tell the organizer that they were honored to be part of the festival, that they were elated. 'The only catch is that we won't be able to perform Jingle Bell Rock because it will still take time to figure out the arrangement and– You know what? We'll just sing Christmas in Our Hearts.'

"Brings back memories, huh?" Kyungsoo asks as they approach one of the food carts nearby. There's Nature Republic to their left, then a makgeolli bar just behind them. There's a hint of nostalgia in the way Kyungsoo smiles, not quite reaching the corners of his eyes. He could be on the verge of getting teary-eyed, really, but Kyungsoo only gets emotional when there's alcohol involved. Or when they're singing. "And you hate extra spicy things, right?"

Baekhyun chuckles. "The worst kind of memories. I can't listen to the song and not think of Chanyeol in a reindeer suit," he answers. "That he turned into a sexy suit, by the way. I don't even know how he did that."

Kyungsoo hums. His voice drifts off, fading under the crackles of hot oil and their food being tossed into the fryer. "You don't know or you don't want to know?"

"Both," Baekhyun admits. He inches closer to the cooker and takes a whiff of the food in it. "Damn, that smells just like–"

Miyoung's fried chicken, he wants to say, but even that doesn't come close. It smells like a... weird mix of things that actually taste good when put together. Fried chicken and fried fish fresh from the sea. Seaweed soup and yellow radish. Mandarins, pineapples, and hot chocolate. A New Year feast that they'd whipped up on their first year of high school, promising, "All the food will help us study better next year! Here's to a more productive 2010!"

Baekhyun doesn't get to finish when Kyungsoo slips a piece of hot tteok between his lips. The hot sauce spills from his bottom lip and catches on his chin, but he's quick to salvage it with a sheet of tissue. "Fuck. This is good!" he exclaims, but chokes somewhere towards the end. The gochujang has already spread on his tongue and eating the tteok feels more like hell than it tastes like heaven. So he fans his mouth, blows air through the slight parting of his lips until Kyungsoo pops some fish cake in his mouth.

"You never learn," Kyungsoo whispers. That's when it clicks – the darkness that has fallen around them, the tiny dots of light on Kyungsoo's cheek. These two, three inches of space between them, and the hot air on Baekhyun's nose that smells like a mix of tteokbokki and Kyungsoo. This familiar brand of courage from Kyungsoo, and the weird hint of apprehension in the way he furrows his eyebrows a little. It's just a tiny wedge at the center, but the contrast form the smile tugging up the corners of Kyungsoo's lips makes it visible even in the dim lighting.

There's a smidgen of gochujang on a corner of Kyungsoo's lips and the urge to reach out and lick it off at the pit of his stomach. Baekhyun leans in, then, testing the waters. From this distance, the stain doesn't even look like gochujang. It just looks like a bright red thing on Kyungsoo's skin. If he could just take a better look at it, pull Kyungsoo closer so he could see it better, maybe–

He cracks his neck and leans back. Wrong move, a voice in his mind says as his view of Kyungsoo shifts. The light from the lamp post reaches the crown of Kyungsoo's head and slithers down some of its strands. Kyungsoo's hair looks more brown than good ol' plain black. Baekhyun can't decide if he likes it yet.

"You've got something on your–" Baekhyun draws circles on his own cheek, hovering his skin, until Kyungsoo jerks back in acknowledgment. "You stick with me too much. I'm rubbing off on you."

Kyungsoo chuckles. The tteokbokki vendor gives Kyungsoo a light tap on the shoulder, then, and he sucks in his bottom lip before pulling away from the conversation. Baekhyun uses that window of opportunity and stuffs himself with as much tteokbokki from Kyungsoo's plate as he can. His mouth feels so full and warm. His cheeks are so hot that he could probably fry a couple of dumplings on it. But his hands are cold in his gloves, like the winter wear isn't serving its purpose. This is how empires come falling down, he supposes – when you attack something from the inside, attack the very core of the being, there's nothing else to do but to surrender.

"Got some cabbage soup for you," Kyungsoo says when he resurfaces. He has two bowls. Half of his own will probably go to Baekhyun so Baekhyun pulls that closer to his side of the mini table. "And I got more tteokbokki because I knew you'd steal mine."

Baekhyun frowns. "I was hungry. You wanted to leave the cafe before I could decide on getting a waffle."

"Didn't your hot chocolate something leave you full? Geez." Kyungsoo shakes his head. He waits for Baekhyun to take the first sip of the soup, anyway. "We have enough food to last us until the end of the first act, I think. The performers should start arriving in a while."

"You really–" Baekhyun chuckles. Some of the gochujang goes down the wrong pipe and he ends up wheezing. "That one isn't research, isn't it? You've been here before. You dragged your lazy ass out here because–"

"Because I was bored at home," Kyungsoo finishes. He frowns at Baekhyun, bottom lip jutting out. It's the brightest shade of red Baekhyun has seen. "Finished fixing my papers for college apps the first three days I was here."

"Oh yeah. Apps," Baekhyun mumbles. Right. Kyungsoo is here for college applications, not to ease him into this new city. He keeps forgetting that. "You're still trying out for other schools, not just K-ARTS? I thought they had the best communications courses in Korea?"

"There's no harm in giving other schools a shot," Kyungsoo replies.

There's no harm in giving us a shot, a voice at the back of Baekhyun's mind echoes. He pushes that down, lets the acid crawling up his throat leave a scar along his skin. It stays there for a while, keeps all the important words from surfacing to his lips for an unrehearsed enunciation. Instead, he listens to Kyungsoo tackle one course after the other – political science, development studies, psychology, marketing and management – and watches as Kyungsoo's hands get caught in a web of elaborate gestures. He watches, takes note of the glimmer in Kyungsoo's eyes, and nods in agreement with everything that Kyungsoo says.

They stay close to the food cart until the crowd near Nature Republic thickens. Baekhyun cranes his neck, trying to see what the commotion is about, until Kyungsoo presses close to his side to whisper. "They're setting up," Kyungsoo tells him. From a corner of Baekhyun's eye, he catches two people bringing in these cool guitars that can probably put Chanyeol's and Jongdae's to shame. "Nice to see a bit of variety. Last week, it was all RnB. Now it looks like they'll have some rock and reggae."

'Variety.' It makes it sound as if Kyungsoo is a regular here in Hongdae, as if he's spent more than a day or two just waiting for these free concerts. Baekhyun chuckles. "If they're doing Mraz, I am so gonna ask for a collab."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes but keeps the smile on his lips. "Can't see why you shouldn't."

"Can't see why you shouldn't, either," Baekhyun says. He cocks an eyebrow at Kyungsoo, as if in a challenge, and grins. "C'mon, it will be fun!"

The truth is, it's been years since he last got on stage alone. His voice had cracked then, and never had he regretted performing in front of a crowd his entire life. Kyungsoo came for the save come the chorus and almost got reprimanded for it because he wasn't supposed to be performing until five minutes after. Once the number was over, Chanyeol approached Baekhyun and said, 'hey, man, cheer up. You're sick. It's normal to fuck up when you're not feeling well.' Jongdae gave him a tight hug. And Kyungsoo held his hand until he felt well enough to smile again. It's been too long since the whole fiasco took place but the memory of the looks on people's faces is still so fresh at the back of his eyelids that if he closes his eyes, he's sure he'll see them again. Hundreds of people looking at him and questioning him through the furrow of his eyebrows, 'why is this kid even dreaming of making it big in the music industry? Why is he even trying?'

"Fun is for kids," Kyungsoo replies. "Not for people preparing for uni."

"We're still kids," Baekhyun retorts. He sticks his tongue out at Kyungsoo, but quickly retracts it when Kyungsoo raises a fist in his direction. A few feet away from them, the band has already started playing. Or maybe they're just tuning their guitars and vocalizing. Baekhyun looks up from cowering in the face of Kyungsoo's fist and cranes his neck to get a glimpse of the vocalist. It takes more effort than expected, though – the crowd is towering over the singer, and Baekhyun isn't exactly the tallest of people.

Kyungsoo guides him to the left, giving him a better view of the stage. The vocalist is... tiny. Kinda lanky, too, with the way he's sort of leaning into or against his guitarist. Baekhyun can't tell right now. There's a weird sort of familiarity in the way their bodies align, though, in the way the vocalist tucks his chin on the guitarist's shoulder and the way the guitarist just keeps tuning his instrument. The guitarist doesn't even look up; he just keeps turning knobs like the vocalist is a natural extension of himself.

The guitarist's lips quiver for a moment. Over Baekhyun's shoulder, he can hear Kyungsoo's light chuckles. "They're the EXO. Extra Xenic Overture or something of that sort. Pretentious name but great music. Hyung made me listen to one of their EPs one time."

Baekhyun turns around, lips turned down in a scowl. "Who even names their band like that? It makes The Bro Code sound so... professional."

"We dropped the 'the'. You said it sounded better. Easier to memorize."

"Well, screw that rule. Bring back the 'the'." Baekhyun crosses his arms over his chest. "It makes us sound like big shots."

Kyungsoo parts his lips like he wants to say something, but soon the guitar riff soars above the collective cheering of the crowd. The vocalist steps closer to the end of the makeshift stage, then, and waves to the crowd, two arms overhead. Those are apple boxes, Baekhyun wants to say. Those don't even look glamorous, yet the vocalist makes it work somehow. He's signaling to the crowd to keep yelling, cheering, and he's working up the crowd like he's done it a thousand – no, a million times before. Like he can go another lifetime preparing this crowd for the great song they're about to perform.

Baekhyun feels his chest tighten, a tiny something bubbling between his ribs. It makes him want to wheeze, cough it out or something, but he can't even feel his tongue. His throat feels dry and there are a thousand words to be said about the way the vocalist moves people. Baekhyun can't even utter one of them.

Spotlight on the vocalist, and the cheers grow louder. "Good evening, Hongdae!" the man says, voice booming through the sound system. The crackling of the sound makes Baekhyun wince, but it also urges him to move closer like joining the thickening crowd will help him breathe easier. A tiny noise behind him, and he reaches behind him instinctively until he feels a familiar slope of the arm. He guides his hand down, then, until he can wrap his fingers around Kyungsoo's slender wrist. Kyungsoo's body give a tiny jerk in response. The gasp that escapes Kyungsoo's lips is faint, almost inaudible, but Baekhyun catches it through the light thump-thadump in Kyungsoo's chest. They're pressed too close here, in a part of the city that's neither foreign nor completely familiar, that Baekhyun can feel every shift of the muscle, every hitch of Kyungsoo's breath. There's nothing left to hide anymore in the shared warmth of their bodies. Kyungsoo has already become part of him, an extension. His completion. And he can feel Kyungsoo's pulse strong and alive against his palm.

"This song–" Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, hesitates and hovers. A blink and then he's fallen silent again, the screams of the people around them drowning him out.

"Hey," Baekhyun begins. He tightens his hold on Kyungsoo. "Hey. If you want to say something then say it."

Kyungsoo snorts. He moves even closer, chest snapping to Baekhyun's back like opposite poles of a magnet. Long walks on the beach and hwaleo hoe. Sokcho-si's waves and the shore. "What's there to say? We're here to listen and watch, not give a running commentary of the performance."

Baekhyun snickers. "You know the song they're about to play. They haven't even started singing yet."

"Shut up."

"I won't judge!"

"I'm not saying–" Kyungsoo grumbles. The vibrations tickle the back of Baekhyun's nape, sneak a sliver of a shiver to the back of his ears. There's a thick blanket of silence for a while, pierced only by Kyungsoo's heavy breathing. So Baekhyun waits – for Kyungsoo to pick up from where he's left off, for the vocalist to sing. For the bubble of excitement inside him to pop and consume him.

"The vocalist is Lu Han. He also plays guitar," Kyungsoo begins. The other guitarist is Minseok. The one using the synthesizer is Zitao. The other two – Jongin and Sehun – they're dancers. This band… They do more than sing on stage." Kyungsoo's voice has gained cadence, a bit more life. His voice almost cracks somewhere towards the end. "They're a performance art package deal. First of its kind here in Seoul."

Baekhyun hums. "Probably in the entire South Korea. We… don't have that in Sokcho-si."

"We don't have much in Sokcho-si," Baekhyun whispers. Flashes of the image of a beach and the clear sea. Waves rushing to shore. Four people duking it out for the last piece of hwaleo hoe and all of them relenting one-by-one to Kyungsoo's strange allure. Kyungsoo munching on the fish with a triumphant grin, then shoving a tiny piece between Baekhyun's lips much later. "Just four silly kids making music."

Kyungsoo shifts in his position a little, then leans back. He traces the bridge of Baekhyun's nose with his gaze, until his eyes settle on the bow of Baekhyun's lips. Baekhyun has never felt a more pressing need to use lip balm in his entire life. "On the beach. You forgot that part."

"Four silly kids frolicking on the beach while singing, yeah," Baekhyun finishes. He leans back, sinking into Kyungsoo's touch, and bobs his head to the tune of the song the band is playing.

Three hours and a couple of tiny gigs in between after, EXO takes the stage again. They're in a different formation this time, though, with Zitao assuming his place behind a drum set from the band that performed before they did. Minseok's testing out the synthesizer, playing a series of notes that would otherwise sound meaningless if not for Lu Han humming into the microphone. Jongin takes the lead guitar, while Sehun takes the bass. Lu Han whips up a shaker out of nowhere and starts to create a beat in the microphone.

Baekhyun gulps hard. There are words threatening to spill from his lips, a thick lump of lyrics in his throat begging to be coughed out. But he doesn't know any of these people. In the thick crowd of music lovers, the only one he knows is Kyungsoo. So he holds onto this sliver of home, a familiar warmth, and balls his hands into fists.

"They'll ask for volunteers later. Singers," Kyungsoo mentions. He pinches Baekhyun in the side. "You'll have your time."

"I won't go up there. I don't even know them."

"You don't have to. You just have to know how to work with the music–"

Three taps on the microphone, then Lu Han's voice is booming in the area they're in. There are probably close to a hundred people in this part of Hongdae, ten other music enthusiasts waiting for EXO to sing again. "Hello again, Hongdae!" Lu Han begins, waving his free hand in the air. "If you haven't noticed by now, this tiny… spontaneous? Yeah, I'd say spontaneous. This spontaneous gig of ours is actually a music festival. Cool, yeah?"

The crowd yells 'cool' right back. Kyungsoo snorts. "I'd have the scare of my life if I was organizing something like this," he mumbles. "Fucking pain in the ass."

"But you'll help out, nonetheless," Baekhyun singsongs. He earns a kick to the calf and another pinch, this time in the stomach. "This sure sounds like a casual stage for a legitimate music festival, though."

"We planned this two weeks ago, if anyone's asking, so yes, there is a semblance of organization to it," Lu Han adds. Behind him, Minseok is shaking his head. Lu Han looks over his shoulder to mouth something that Baekhyun can't make out even if he cranes his neck. "Anyway! Bad news for everyone: we're the last act. Us again, I know." Lu Han nods, slow and deliberate, like he's giving everyone some time to digest the situation. "Another bad news: I'm getting really sappy and this whole music festival thing reminded me of one of the festivals I went to years back. I was still staying in Gyeonggi-do then so that would be–"

"Three years ago," Minseok offers, speaking into the microphone. "It may not look like it but Han's pretty old already."

"Says the guy who's older than me."

"Says the guy who claims he's still twenty-three," Minseok retorts, sticking out his tongue a little. Lu Han doesn't turn around yet, simply stays there with his back turned to the crowd. It smells a lot like unfinished business, Baekhyun muses. It smells nothing like the stink and heat of fifty, a hundred other people in this cramped space.

It takes a while for Lu Han to resurface, and when he does he has the silliest grin in his lips. "As I was saying, the festival. Right," he begins, then cracks his neck. "I was legal enough to drink then and a couple of friends and I – this same set of friends –" He cocks his head in the band's direction. Zitao holds up a peace sign in the air and Sehun blows everyone a kiss. He blushes right after, though. Kyungsoo laughs at that, hot puffs of air stinging Baekhyun's nape. "Had been watching something like… eight bands? Yeah, eight bands for the past twelve hours. Ten to ten, that's right. So maybe we were a bit high on both alcohol and good music, but that's not an excuse for me to just… Go around hugging people. Telling them that life is good and beautiful and that I love them like a love song–"

"Baby," Baekhyun and Kyungsoo chime at the same time. Kyungsoo's soft snorts turn into bright laughter when the crowd erupts into peals of giggles and applause.

"And Minseok was like, 'dude, what's wrong with you?' And I told him, 'nothing's wrong with spreading a bit of love, right?' Some new band comes on and whoops–" He turns to the side of the stage and gives a trio of singers a salute. "Turns out it's JYJ. No offense, guys. I actually love them. So okay, I was saying that's nothing wrong with spreading some love! And then I took some stranger's hand and held Minseok's in another and started swaying to one of JYJ's less tragic love songs. I vaguely remember Minseok complaining or something but everyone knows he's a serial hand-holder. Cut to ten minutes after that and he was tightening his hand in mine." Lu Han looks over his shoulder. "That's right, Seok, I said it – you are a serial hand holder."

The crowd erupts into laughter. Kyungsoo's giggles get drowned in them, but he can feel every hitch of Kyungsoo's breath against his skin. It almost feels like one of those old gigs of theirs, the only time they landed an act in Gangneung-si and were given six, seven bottles of makgeolli as payment. Kyungsoo was trying hard not to laugh as they were handed the box of alcohol, so he buried his face in the dip of Baekhyun's shoulders like it was the most natural thing to do. As soon as the guy was gone, Baekhyun burst into laughter and ended up striking the floor with hard slaps. Kyungsoo was curled up beside him, wheezing while gasping, "He actually bought the thing about us being legal–"

"So what I'm trying to say – or achieve, rather – is something close to that festival I went to that night. Hand-holding and all, yes. Yes." Lu Han looks around, surveying the crowd. "Sorry for those who'll end up holding sweaty hands but hey, keep this in mind: you're spreading some love. Warmth. Heat." Jongin plucks a low note that startles Lu Han a little. Lu Han looks over his shoulder and mouths, 'fuck you.' "We need warmth this winter, yeah? We all feel a bit generous during the holidays, right?"

The funny thing about the crowd is that while Baekhyun had heard complaints earlier, people mumbling that 'this isn't necessary', a lot of people still do it. And it doesn't take much for him to turn around and reach for Kyungsoo's tiny fists, enveloping them with his own. Kyungsoo's first reaction is to look up and meet Baekhyun in the eye. His second is to tilt his head to the side as if asking, 'why me?'

"I'm stuck with you, remember?" Baekhyun whispers. Kyungsoo's furrowed eyebrows relax, the tiny slope in the middle slowly easing, like he's just come across a weird realization. Sans the parted lips, though, but there's a tiny opening between the tight press of his skin. He's blowing tiny puffs of hot air. They reach the tip of Baekhyun's nose and almost make him sneeze. "But if you want to hold someone else's hand–"

"And then sway," Baekhyun hears Lu Han say over his shoulder. He does exactly as he is told, tugging Kyungsoo closer. It's hard to make Kyungsoo move when Kyungsoo's as immovable as a rock, but the light movement of Kyungsoo's body from side to side is enough to set them in motion. It's enough to tune out the first few words of Lu Han's spiel and just make Baekhyun catch, "And I want you to look into that person's eyes like you have stiff neck or you're stuck there. But in love. That's right – you're a little bit in love."

The crowd roars in a mix of laughter and other amused sounds. Kyungsoo snorts. He crinkles his nose. The tip of his nose is red, too red, and Baekhyun just wants to lean in to press a soft kiss to it–

"What are you staring at?" Kyungsoo asks, voice barely above a whisper.

'Your lips' would be the best answer. Baekhyun doesn't say it. Instead, he says, "Your ugly face."

Lu Han's voice fades into a series of notes, sounds of instruments this time that are loud enough to shatter the silence. Jongin starts plucking the strings, then, each note within three seconds of each other. The shaker comes in, Lu Han moving the instrument in his hands to the beat that Jongin makes, and then the crowd's swaying from side to side. It's hard to not get carried by the tide, to not dance along even just a little, so Baekhyun relents. Pulls Kyungsoo along with him so that he won't look weird and stupid. Scrunches his nose at Kyungsoo when Kyungsoo says, "You're the worst dancer ever."

"No. That's Chanyeol," Baekhyun argues. The dude behind him pushes too hard and they almost end up stumbling into the people in front of them. Kyungsoo mumbles a soft 'sorry' under his breath, but he doesn't sound apologetic. He doesn't sound repentant either. It's as if he'd meant for the accident to happen because now they have more space to themselves. There's a good four inches between them now instead of the two inches keeping them apart earlier.

Lu Han starts singing about this moment being the start of something new, something magical. It's strange how music can say both nothing and everything, and right now EXO's song is fucking up with Baekhyun's mind so badly and telling his story. Or at least what he's feeling right now, here in Hongdae with his hands covering Kyungsoo's fists. His chest feels tight but half of him oddly feels as if this is where he should be, that this is what he should be doing – wrapping his hands around Kyungsoo's fists and humming the same tune Lu Han is singing on stage.

"This is weird," Kyungsoo mumbles. His gaze drops from Baekhyun's own, tracing a straight line south until he reaches the swell of Baekhyun's upper lip. "Very... weird."

"Hey, don't fall in love with me now," Baekhyun teases. His voice shakes, though, and his body gives a tiny jerk when Kyungsoo bites his lower lip. "If you confess to me in the middle of the street–"

Kyungsoo chuckles. "You won't hear it because your hearing's shit," he says. "And it takes you at least an hour to process things before you're able to give an acceptable response. Remember that time–" He shakes his head. "That time when Sunyoung confessed to you when we were in sixth grade, you looked hilarious–"

And he was taken aback, yes. It was unexpected, after all. One minute, they were talking about the Archie comics, and the next minute all their friends were excusing themselves one by one. Sunyoung shifted in her seat and reached out, taking Baekhyun's hand in hers. Then she lifted her gaze, looked him straight in the eye to say, "I think your hair is awful but I really, really like you."

I think Kyungsoo's hair is awful but I still like him, he wanted to say then, but Sunyoung's lips were drawn to a thin line and her eyebrows where quivering. She wasn't kidding. Her fingers turning cold against his warm skin weren't joking around, either. Five seconds turned into ten. Ten seconds turned into a number Baekhyun can't recall anymore. All he can remember is the thumping in his chest when he craned his neck to look over Sunyoung's shoulder and Kyungsoo's warm, amused smile. The way Kyungsoo widened his eyes when Baekhyun said, in a faint voice, "Short hair suits you better. And thank you but .. I don't like you the way Jinki-hyung does."

What he meant back then was, 'I'm not sure if I'm into girls but in any case, you're not Kyungsoo. I mean Joonmyun-hyung. But yeah, you're not them.' It's the kind of thing you can't enunciate so easily, so you go with a small smile and a nod, instead.

Sunyoung took everything in stride and gave him a warm smile. She gave his hands a squeeze and said, "Eh, it was worth a shot. I sorta figured out you didn't feel the same way." At that time, Baekhyun didn't know what to do, but now he sort of wants to go back to that time and ask what Sunyoung meant by it. If she'd figured something out that Baekhyun didn't. If she knew Baekhyun better that he, himself, did at that time.

Someone bumps them on either side at the same time that Lu Han resumes his annotation of the music festival he went to years ago. Minseok's vocals fade out, too, and soon the sound of the guitar and the shaker rise about the collective noise of the crowd.

"Now, imagine this: it's ass o' clock in the morning and maybe you've already drunk too much. And you've just turned legal, so that makes the drinking part acceptable. You've had too much to drink and the person right in front of you – yes, the same dude or girl whose hand you're holding right now – looking at that person in front of you is giving you this weird, funny feeling in your chest. In your chest!" Lu Han paces back and forth, pointing at the 'couples' who have paired off. It's becoming more difficult to make out the details of Lu Han's face with the pull of Kyungsoo's gaze keeping him facing forward. "You've just been hit by this huge realization and you're in a state of complete euphoria, and for some strange reason all the answers you've been looking for are in that person's eyes. So you look up– C'mon, you kids, look up! You look up at the person in eye, straight in the eye, and take a deep breath."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, doing as he is told, and tightens his grip on Kyungsoo's hands. Kyungsoo's laughing a little, mumbling, "This is crazy." His shoulders rise, though, when he does a sharp intake of breath, and the smile on his lips widens. Soon, some of his teeth are peeking from the slight parting of his lips and Baekhyun has to squint for fear of being blinded.

"You like crazy, though," Baekhyun whispers. Someone bumps them from behind again, and before Baekhyun can even protest Kyungsoo's forehead comes to rest on his. Kyungsoo's skin feels hot and sticky against his own, and Kyungsoo still smells of street food. And strawberries. And the bad coffee he had earlier this morning that smells good in his hair. His breath is warm yet prickling, and only then does Baekhyun realize how close they are. If he squints hard enough, he'll see the faint dots of red on Kyungsoo's cheek. If he moves closer then maybe he can see how short Kyungsoo's lashes are, or count the tiny cracks on Kyungsoo's lips from when he's bitten them too much.

"So, what now?" Kyungsoo asks. It's more of a response to the standstill, the thick silence that settles upon the crowd as the guitar riff gets louder.

Baekhyun opens his mouth to speak but Lu Han beats him to it, picks up from where he's left off. "And now I want you to sing this verse to your partner in the sincerest, most romantic way possible," he says, then his voice shifts to his more melodious tone.

Jongin stops plucking and shifts to strumming the strings, each repetition harder than the previous. Slowly, the noise around them dies down, fading out into silence. He can hear Kyungsoo's heartbeat, though, can feel it in the link of their hands, can see it in the way Kyungsoo parts and closes then parts his lips again. He looks like he wants to say something or he's trying to grasp at the right words for the lyrics, but nothing comes out. Instead, Kyungsoo lets out a long and breathy sigh, his hot breath making Baekhyun shiver.

Jongin holds that one note as he strums, eight counts to the one deep breath that Baekhyun holds in his chest. From a corner of Baekhyun's eye, he sees Lu Han lean closer to the microphone, lips poised in song.

"This is the start of something beautiful–" Baekhyun whispers at the same time that Lu Han sings. Kyungsoo's voice is at least a notch lower, scratchy because of the cool weather. He pulls it off, though, doesn't crack at any part and sings the line in the smoothest way possible.

It's been a while since they've harmonized with each other, really sung with each other without Jongdae or Chanyeol's voice accompanying theirs. The Bro Code's songs sound best with Baekhyun and Jongdae singing with each other, after all, but Kyungsoo doesn't sound half bad when he sings with Baekhyun. They have the same tone and timbre, made distinct only by Baekhyun's voice being more nasal. Like he's singing through his nose and not through his heart. 'You have to get the emotions from this place,' he remembers Kyungsoo telling him before during band practice. 'You have to draw the most important notes from the heart so you can sing them to the best of your ability.'

So he practiced and practiced until he could get the notes right. Until his throat became hoarse from all those sleepless nights spent perfecting his craft. The week after, they had a show near the port. Baekhyun cried after their encore performance, after singing a new composition they'd just finished two nights ago. Jongdae hung his head low as the crowd applauded them. Chanyeol kept waving his arms about. Kyungsoo stared for the longest time, still not able to process the whole thing. When he'd finally surfaced from his moment of shock, he told Baekhyun, "That was something."

Baekhyun recalls snorting, laughing. He recalls brushing his knuckles against Kyungsoo's cheek as he said, "It's everything I've learned from you put into a song."

Jongin's strumming slows down as the last few words of the song leave Lu Han's lips. Kyungsoo's voice grows a bit louder, soaring above Baekhyun's, but it still sounds as if he's breathing music out. Letting the words tumble from his lips. And Baekhyun can feel it, the subtle movement of Kyungsoo's mouth against his skin, the thinning distance between them. The hot sensation wrapping around his neck and crawling up to his cheeks as Kyungsoo leans closer, their mouths touching – top lip to top lip, Baekhyun's bottom lip caught between Kyungsoo's own.

He closes his eyes. Opens them when the he feels light vibrations of Kyungsoo's laughter between his lips, then opens them wider when he feels the wet slide of Kyungsoo's lips against his. What's happening, why are you doing this, why the hell are you pulling away when this feels right– There are a hundred – no, thousands – of voices swimming in his mind right now, and even if he tries hard to just summarize all of them into one sentence, a single feeling, he can't. It's impossible. His heart feels like it might leap out of his chest anytime but it's plummeting to ground and flailing around like a fish out of water. And his mind is swirling. Nothing makes sense but the taste Kyungsoo leaves in his mouth, or the way Kyungsoo's hands ball into fists in Baekhyun's jacket. So Baekhyun says, "Kyung…soo?" Whispers, because he can't hear himself above the thundering noise in his chest.

"Can't count on you to get things done," Kyungsoo says. His voice is so faint, he might have been breathing, but Baekhyun has watched Kyungsoo's lips long enough to know what the slightest quirk means. Baekhyun has this in spades. "I'm sorry for imposing. I didn't mean to–"

"No," Baekhyun says. He shakes his head, gulps down hard, and bites the inside of his cheek for no good reason. He tightens his grip, then realizes that he's still holding Kyungsoo's hand. Kyungsoo's shaking hand. It's not even that cold anymore. The downward tug on the corners of Kyungsoo's mouth hasn't eased yet, like he's frozen completely. "I mean, it's okay. Don't… apologize. It's been–"

A long time coming, he means to say, but then he doesn't know Kyungsoo's side of the story. For all of the years he's known Kyungsoo, he never saw this coming. Kyungsoo was a girl magnet back in elementary and middle school. Almost got into a relationship with Soojung but decided that 'it would never work out' because of their conflicting ideals. Whenever he and Kyungsoo bathed together, Kyungsoo always looked the other way and waited for Baekhyun to cover his package before reaching for the shampoo. It doesn't make sense. You don't just wake up and find out that your best friend, the same guy who you might have been in love with all your life, feels the same about you. That's not how it works.

But–

'A kiss is just a kiss,' he remembers Kyungsoo saying years ago. He'd spotted Kyungsoo and Soojung kissing in the hagwon just after the session that time. It must have been the thrill of finally finishing all those damned readings for school at work, the relief turning into happiness and then passion as Soojung fisted her hands in Kyungsoo's shirt. And Kyungsoo didn't even part his lips. 'A kiss is just a kiss and it doesn't mean a thing until you talk about it.'

From behind them, someone presses a bottle of soju to Baekhyun's cheek. He jerks back, hands dropping to his sides, and turns around to check who'd given him the alcohol. "This shit's for free. I think the band made enough money to hand out some booze after the fest," says the stranger. Baekhyun doesn't take it until he's checked the packaging – it looks exactly like that of Jinro's. Or was it Chamisul's?– and made sure that it's legitimate. Safe for consumption. Something that won't make him do something he'll regret.

Kyungsoo hasn't thawed out yet. He's worrying on his bottom lip like it's the only thing that can keep him alive. So Baekhyun asks, "Shot?", in an attempt to get rid of the cool wave of silence.

Kyungsoo's eyes flit to the bottle, then trace a path north until he's staring at Baekhyun's red lips. "Only if you promise not to throw up on me."

Baekhyun chuckles. A ghost of a smile surfaces on Kyungsoo's lips, in the subtle twitch of the corners of his mouth. Baekhyun breathes out. "Sure thing," he says, and uncaps the soju. "Second bottle's on me."

≋ ≋ ≋

The second bottle isn't a myth, except Baekhyun doesn't really buy it. He gets it as a prize for having the guts to sing on stage during the open mic event. "Three songs, man. Three songs! When I was your age, I couldn't even sing the national anthem on stage!" Lu Han says as he hands Baekhyun the bottle. He shakes his head a little and leans back until the mic stand hits his shoulder. "Are you sure you're not a professional singer or anything? You don't do gigs on the regular? No… offers?"

Baekhyun parts his lips to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, he makes this tiny gurgle at the back of his throat. You know, the kind of sound newly-converted fans do when they meet their idol. He's never been more thankful that he's not speaking into a microphone right now.

"Don't scare the kid," Minseok says from over Lu Han's shoulder. A few feet away, Jongin and Sehun are nodding with feigned interest. Zitao looks more attuned to the situation, eyeing Baekhyun with the weirdest gaze ever. "Sorry, he just… Gets a bit excited when he spots talented people. In a crowd like this." Minseok snorts. He walks closer, then, until Lu Han can lean against him instead of the mic stand. There it is again, Baekhyun notes, the way their bodies just fit. "That small guy over there, the one you were getting your lyrics from, is he a friend of yours?"

Baekhyun looks over his shoulder at the same time that Kyungsoo looks up. Their eyes meet, and for a moment Baekhyun feels like running the fuck away from the scene. There's still the memory of that weird kiss earlier, the memory of how good it felt to have Kyungsoo's lips on his and how much he wanted more of it. More of that mix of tteokbokki and coffee and something sweet in Kyungsoo's mouth. More of Kyungsoo's warmth. He's not quite sure what his face is doing, but Kyungsoo trying to suppress his laughter a few feet away makes him think that he looks like some starstruck fool. Or lovestruck, whichever is closer to the half-smile, half-scowl thing going on with his lips right now.

"Uh, Baekhyun?" Minseok snaps his fingers and Baekhyun turns around again, spine snapping up straight. "Is he your friend?"

Is he your friend? Half an hour ago, it would've been easy to say yes without a hint of doubt. Fast forward to this very moment and Baekhyun isn't so sure if he can wholeheartedly use the term without choking on the word.

Baekhyun swallows hard and nods. "We go way back. We're… in a band with two other guys," he adds soon after, and Minseok leans closer. Baekhyun takes that as a sign to go on, maybe divulge a bit of his life story and land a recording deal by the end of the night. "We're called The Bro Code because we're all bros. Get it? Bro Code?"

Minseok blinks a few times. Sehun snorts, and Lu Han furrows his eyebrows in a tight knot.

EXO leave the venue after a while, instruments slung over their shoulders and all. Lu Han gives them a wave before ducking into the taxi. Minseok takes the seat in front, and Jongin stumbles into the cab like he was seconds away from dozing off earlier. Sehun and Zitao take the next cab but not without Zitao walking up to Baekhyun before getting inside. "I heard your friend singing earlier. And saw him singing. You two would make a great duo. And more," he whispers, finishing with a wink. Sehun pulls him inside, then, and holds up a peace sign before leaning against Zitao's shoulder.

"I see you've made friends," Kyungsoo says from behind. The once cold presence turns warm when Kyungsoo slips beside him, knuckles brushing against the back of his hand. "You've got friends in Seoul now. I'm impressed."

"Wasn't too hard," Baekhyun replies, locking his arms behind his back. "You should try it sometime. You just have to walk up to the stage and grab the mic. And sing something, of course. Tell them some stories and make those sound ten times more heart-wrenching than they should–"

Zitao and Sehun's cab drives off, the roar of the engine fading out as it moves farther away from them. Baekhyun looks around, then, and spots two people across the road who look as if they could use a ride home. There's nothing but closed shops and empty streets ahead of them, nothing but the darkness and the blowing winds. They're alone out here, in a section of Hongdae close enough to the main street that cabs can reach them. There's no tall building to block the winds at midnight, not a hint of music in the background to lend a bit of dissonance to the silence.

And then the light from the lamp post shines upon on Kyungsoo, lighting up his features a little. There are two spots of red on Kyungsoo's cheeks, and there's a lazy grin on his lips. Baekhyun wants to reach out, to draw patterns on Kyungsoo's skin with his nails to see if he can leave bright patterns on his skin. If he can mark Kyungsoo, and if it will stay long enough for people to see. He doesn't, though. Instead, he digs his hands in his pockets but allows himself the leisure of moving one step forward, inside Kyungsoo's perimeter.

"It was your time to shine," Kyungsoo says, eyelids almost dropping to cover his eyes. He gives his cheeks a slap, then, pinches them when the force of the slap does little to keep him awake. "And I'm a team player. I don't like performing alone. It just doesn't look like it but I like working with people."

"Oh yeah? Since when?" Baekhyun teases.

Kyungsoo looks up at him, the strain in his eyes apparent in the way half of his eyes are coated in red. This is Kyungsoo fighting – fighting his fatigue, fighting the alcohol in his body. Fighting the urge to close these six inches of space between them. His eyes haven't stopped from flitting from Baekhyun's eyes to his lips. He hasn't stopped clenching and unclenching his fists yet. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, then, fixes his eyes on Kyungsoo's tiny wrists. He recalls, without meaning to, the tight press of their bodies in the cold, the uncertainty in the way Kyungsoo had trapped Baekhyun's bottom lip between his own.

A familiar heat sizzles to his abdomen. He sucks in his bottom lip, and Kyungsoo drops his gaze to the ground in response.

"Fine. I lied. I hate people," Kyungsoo admits. He scratches at his pants and scowls a little when his nail gets caught in something. He looks up, then, the whites of his eyes visible through the narrow slits of his hair. "But there are... certain exceptions."

Certain exceptions probably means people Kyungsoo can tolerate. It shouldn't be hard to create a trimmed down list. Jongdae is his favorite. Chanyeol is still toeing that line between obnoxious and passably annoying yet sweet. And Kyungsoo likes sweet despite his press release that cheese and romance are revolting. And then there's Yixing and Joonmyun, then all of their older siblings. He likes Baekbeom more than he does his own brother. He likes Baekhyun more than he likes Baekbeom, probably.

Probably.

"So," Baekhyun begins, then gulps down hard. "Were you lying then? Earlier, when you– When you ki–"

"When I kissed you," Kyungsoo whispers. He growls, face scrunching up, but his gaze doesn't wane. "Dammit, Baekhyun. We already kissed and you still can't say the word. What's wrong with you?"

What's wrong is these six inches between them, six inches keeping them apart and making them cold. What's wrong is Kyungsoo's trembling lips, his hands that are giving a tiny shake. What's wrong is that all the voices in Baekhyun's head are telling him, screaming that 'this is what you've always wanted, Baekhyun. You were just really slow and stupid to not realize it earlier.'

"You haven't answered my question yet. Were you lying then?"

Kyungsoo tilts his chin up, the light from the lamp post setting his features aglow again. His eyes are still half-mast, like he's still trying to resist even if his hands are already reaching for Baekhyun's. His fingers tremble around Baekhyun's wrist. The sudden jerk makes the thumping in Baekhyun's chest grow faster. Louder.

"No," Kyungsoo confesses. He worries his bottom lip, then continues, "I'm shit at lying, Baekhyun. I thought you knew that."

Baekhyun sucks in a loud, violent breath and holds it right there where his chest feels the fullest. Just holds it and stares at Kyungsoo, wide-eyed, lips trembling. Kyungsoo tilts his head like he's looking for something to hold onto – a chuckle, a tight grip on his wrists, anything – a beacon of light to guide him home. So Baekhyun moves closer, a step and a half forward, until their linked hands are trapped between the press of their bodies.

"I do," he whispers. A heartbeat, and then, "But I didn't know I could finally stop lying to myself."

He leans forward until his forehead bumps into Kyungsoo's. Kyungsoo laughs a little, faint, almost inaudible, so Baekhyun inches even closer to hear more of it, so he can feel the vibrations of Kyungsoo's laughter against his mouth. The first contact is soft and tentative, like they're still testing the waters they've long been diving into. He can feel the scars on Kyungsoo's chapped lips, can feel Kyungsoo seethe when Baekhyun runs his tongue between their pressed lips. He tastes like soju and metal and winter, but there's a distant taste of hwaleo hoe somewhere. Salty water and the sea. Home.

"I don't know how this shit's done," Baekhyun confesses. Kyungsoo pinches him in his stomach and he giggles in response.

"I could show you," Kyungsoo whispers. "If you let me."

Baekhyun laughs a little. He presses harder on Kyungsoo's lips with his own so Kyungsoo can feel the vibrations of his humming.

Kyungsoo reaches up and traces the curve of Baekhyun's cheek with his fingers. He stops midway through, freezing, and Baekhyun places one hand atop Kyungsoo's to guide him further down. It both weird and amusing, the way they don't know how to move around each other like their limbs were made to crash against someone else's yet still fit somehow. Kyungsoo finally thaws out, fingers resting on Baekhyun's chin.

"Stop laughing," Kyungsoo mumbles.

"Sorry," Baekhyun says in reply, breathy. Breathless. Kyungsoo catches Baekhyun's top lip between his lips and gives it a light suck. A tiny whimper escapes Baekhyun's lips, and he pulls away to take a quick breath and say, "Promise I won't–"

"Shut up, Byun," Kyungsoo says in between giggles. He balls one of his hands into a fist in Baekhyun's coat. "Shut up and just kiss me."

It's a tall order, one Baekhyun knows better than to laugh at, but the push and pull of confidence and apprehension in the way Kyungsoo smiles and pouts and smiles again is difficult to ignore. It sends a sizzle down his abdomen, a shiver up his spine that tickles him and makes him giggle. Kyungsoo's idea of revenge is sweet, though, a warm press of his lips against Baekhyun's. There's urgency in it, in the way Kyungsoo catches Baekhyun's bottom lip between his teeth, in the way he sucks on the corners of Baekhyun's mouth. In the way Kyungsoo slips his tongue at the slightest parting of Baekhyun's lips, scoring a line alone Baekhyun's teeth.

"Can't believe I've been–" Baekhyun tilts his head back, mouth falling open as Kyungsoo's lips descend to his neck. "Missing this. All this time–" He snakes his hands up, grabbings a fistful of Kyungsoo's hair as Kyungsoo licks along the underside of his jaw. Kyungsoo pauses, then, looking up, and Baekhyun feels his pulse quicken at the base of his throat. His heart is racing so fast in his chest that he fears it might leap out of him anytime, leave him dead and lifeless.

"Now, you know," Kyungsoo mutters. He pulls away, grinning. The bow of his mouth is swollen and his cheeks are flush with heat. The upward tug on his lips is an invitation, the reach of his arm and light brush of the tips of his fingers against Baekhyun's skin the force reeling him in. So Baekhyun throws all caution to the wind and takes that goddamned leap of faith, crushing his lips into Kyungsoo's in a juvenile kiss.

Kyungsoo hiccups, giggles, gasps when Baekhyun bites down on his lip a bit too hard. Baekhyun takes a jab to the stomach, then, and an even more forceful blow to the lips when Kyungsoo leans in to reclaim every corner of Baekhyun's mouth. There's a dull ache in his jaw, in his nape, in his knees that haven't stopped shaking since the winter breeze started beating down on them, but it doesn't matter. The way Kyungsoo's slow-forming smile crawls under his skin is worth it.

It's worth the wait.

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